


Just the Three of Us, We can Make It If We Try

by OrangeSprout



Series: Step 1: Is Accepting Me [2]
Category: Mewgulf, เกลียดนักมาเป็นที่รักกันซะดีๆ | TharnType: The Series (TV) RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Fighting, Fluff, Foster Care, Gulf gives type a bubble bath, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Mentions of Abusive Foster Parents, Mentions of Panic Attacks, MewGulf are in a loving relationship, MewGulf phone sex, Sadness and Emotions, Type has a little meltdown, Type has a tatrum, Type has nightmares, Type has panic attacks, Type learning that not everyone is bad, Underage Rape/Non-con, Underage abuse, and STIs, bed wetting, beucase unfortunately sometimes that's reality, but also fluff, depictions of abuse in rape against minors, it's cute, rebuilding after trauma, they have some cute and sexy moments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:00:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 40,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27628529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OrangeSprout/pseuds/OrangeSprout
Summary: Gulf doesn't expect Type in the middle of the night but it's not like he can say no. Now he has to figure out how to show the boy that theirs more than just bad in the world. and maybe one day get to boop his nose, Type looks like he could use a good boop.OrGulf becomes the foster guardian to Type who needs someone good in his life.(The TharnType X MewGulf crossover no one asked for.)
Relationships: Mew Suppasit Jongcheveevat/Gulf Kanawut Traipipattanapong
Series: Step 1: Is Accepting Me [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2064507
Comments: 67
Kudos: 211





	1. The Night We Meet

**Author's Note:**

> This is a story about foster care though it based on my knowledge about foster care in America because I know nothing about it in any other country. I've done lots of research because I want to foster one day soon (like semi-distant future). (This fic will not be an accurate description of foster care.)
> 
> There are mentions and even some depictions of it underage abuse and rape. As this is going more towards the dark side of what happens in foster care it should be known that if those things bother you please do not read.
> 
> Type has mentions of an STI but I don't go deeper than mentioning.
> 
> I am trying to balance the harshness of the story with fluffy moments and of course, I am adding MewGulf moments I just really hope it doesn't read as strange to have MewGulf Sex along with them dealing with Types trauma soo yeah...

Gulf slaps the nightstand a few times his hand fumbles around blindly until he manages to grab his phone - which was emitting said loud shrill sound.

Mew groaned in his sleep mumbling before his face burying deeper into Gulf's back. Mew's hands pulling him tight against his chest. Gulf feels the sleep soaked grin stretching over his face at the gesture and momentarily forgets about the phone to sleepy think about how cute his boyfriend was. It lasts a whole three seconds before the shrill is back and he turns the evil device towards his face. Mild was calling him at..... 2 in the morning?

“Are you dying?” He groans into the phone, conscious of his speaking volume. He didn’t want to wake Mew up.

“You would be sad if I was.”

“That would depend on the severity. If it’s something could have waited till morning -“ Gulf's words are cut off as the other end clanks like the phone was dropped. There some muffled whisper yelling. Then Mild huffs on the other end. “Mild?”

“Fuc - farts and bananas.” Mild quickly corrects himself in a little sing-songy voice and an awkward tiny laugh.

“Mild.” Gulf wiggles out of Mews hold to sit up. Something was strange with his friend. More so than usual too at least.

“Sorry sorry.” He can hear Mild shuffling the phone. “I need a favor."

“What’s going on?”

“It’s a ginormous favor.”

“I'm not agreeing till I know what it is.”

Mild lets out a low sigh and Gulf can hear the exhaustion through the phone. “I have a kid-“

“Please don’t tell me you’re about to ask what I think you are.”

“He’s great...” There was a short pause. “He just needs someone. It’ll be for a short period of time.”

“I’m not a foster home.” Which was technically a lie. He was certified. It had been a request from Mild. He'd also house a few kids before. Two to be exact. One was a teen boy for around three months and the other had been a baby, about two weeks old for a month. Both of those times Mild had pleaded with big puppies eyes and Gulf had folded like a house of hards at the slightest breeze. But he wasn't a foster home he was a resit home, like a short-term babysitter. Sometimes. Only for Mild. On the rare occasions that Mild decides to call him up at  _ 2 in the morning. _

“You took those classes with me.”

“You asked me too!” Gulf whisper shouted back

“And you did great! So great in fact that I would trust you with a kid. Any kid. But most importantly, this kid”

Gulf growl into the phone. Mew's arm wraps around his waist almost as if sensing Gulf frustration in his sleep. Ugh, His boyfriend is too sweet for his current mood.

It's not that he was mad at having to take kids in, he really wasn't. He didn't mind helping Mild out or even the kids themselves. Mild hadn't bullied him into getting certified, he'd chose it himself. It's just.. he really wished Mild would give him more of a heads up. The last kids he'd know less than 72 hours before that he'd be watching over him for a little while. He had a feeling this one would be no different. Maybe he'll get a few hours so that he could drop Mew off at the airport and call his work telling them he's been working from home for the next couple of weeks.

“Mild.”

“Listen, Gulf.” Mild's voice was serious and stern. A voice that Gulf had only heard a few times. This first time was when he said he was serious about becoming a social worker to help out kids in need. Something that no one that he was serious about until that moment. Determination, Drive, Passion, seriousness. In short Mild's ' I'm a fucking professional badass and you will do what I say' voice. “I need you to take this kid. He needs  _ one  _ good person in his life.”

There’s a few seconds of dead silence before Mild speaks against. “He has nowhere else to go.”

“That’s all the kids you care for Mild.” A few more beats of silence. Gulf exhales slowly. "Fine." He had no plans of saying no in the first place and Mild knew that. And they said Mew was the soft one. 

“Thank you, Gulf! Thank you!”

“Yeah yeah. This isn’t for you, this is for the kid.”

“Yes of course.

“When should I expect the kid?”

There’s some more shuffling on Mild end, Gulf can hear him talking to someone else. “Hey Gulf, Mew's there right?”

Gulf glares into the darkness, Mews arm suddenly felt heavy around his waist. “Why would he be?”

Mild snots a laugh, “He’s been basically living with you for the past few months. Not gonna lie we all have bets on who’s gonna ask who to finally move in. I think Mew will be the first to bring it up. Surprised he hasn't already.” The last part is whispered but Gulf still hears it.

“Why are you telling me about your bet? I could easily make you lose it.”

“I’m not worried." Gulf can he the cockiness in his voice. "I know you too well.”

“Gulf.” Mew's voice is gravely and deep. A tiny shiver runs down his spine. He loves the way Mews's voice sounds when he first wakes up, so similar to the way he sounds when he's balls deep- “What’s wrong baby?

Gulf reaches his free hand down to run it through Mew's hair, scratching lightly. Mew groans in delight, snuggling sleepily closer to his hip.

“Gulf?” He jerks a little as Mild's voice brings him back to his phone. “You still there?”

“Don't try and distract me by asking about Mew." Gulf was too easily distracted by Mew, It was a real problem. "When is the kid getting here?”

Mild sighs into his phone; resignation maybe. “I’ll be there in five.”

The phone clicks off and Gulf is left in silence. For a moment his sleepy brain thinks about curling back into Mew and falling back asleep. He doesn’t. He does let out a tiny groan of protest that's met with silence before leaning in to kiss Mew's forehead before extracting himself from his hold.

He stumbles around the room in the dark to pull out sleeping pants and a T-shirt. He can’t exactly receive a kid in the middle of the night in only his boxers. He wiggles for a moment, his ass giving him the tiniest bit of protest. He was definitely hoping to squeeze in another round before he had to take Mew to the airport in the morning but that seems to be a no-go now. He groans again. Running a hand over his face trying to pull himself together. He knows he's just grumpy at being woken up so... early but it's hard to damper down the angry in him when he can't even keep his eyes open as he walks to the spare room.

He checks the room making sure everything seems in place, spraying some air freshener to get rid of the slightly stale smell. He doesn't use the room often and normally he'd clean it before someone uses it but he doesn't have time to do that right now. He fluffs the pillows and shakes the top blankets to air it out a bit. Plugs in the nightlight and the lamp (checking to make sure the bulb was still working). He digs the sound machine out of the closest and sets it up by the bed just in case. (The first kid, the teenage boy he housed had nightmares and the noise machine helped. Plus during the classes, he took they suggested them. The steady sound sometimes helps the kids sleep in the new environment). Sometimes Mew used it too. After a really stressful week. Gulf had never had trouble falling asleep so he never truly understood the need for it but it seemed to work for others.

He checks under the sheet to make sure he put the waterproof sheet on the mattress. He's gotten it as a sort of joke after one night of too much drinking and Mild and Boat had both managed to puke all over the bed during the night. It had taken him ages to get the smell out and bought the cover as a joke. It had saved his mattress a few times since then. (Why did he let his friends use his apartment as the dedicated getting drunk apartment? Probably because Mews apartment had too many expensive things in it and Mild and Boats apartments were...messy to put it lightly. He sighed at the thought of his friends). It had helped a lot with the first kid whose nightmares were so bad sometimes that he couldn't get out of bed. He didn't know how old this kid that he was getting was but it didn't hurt to have all the precautions he could be in place.

He shuffles down the hall to plug the other nightlight in as well. He has no idea the kid's age but he knows that everyone feels a little better when their path is lighted in a new place. He stops in the bathroom quickly to find the spare toothbrush under his sink before moving to the kitchen.

He’s throwing a bag of chips into a bowl with the other snacks (fruit gummies, apples, pretzels, and such) when Mild rings the doorbell. Gulf's heart jumps in his chest for a moment before he stomps to the door. He's ready to yell at Mild for ringing the bell in the middle of the night when big scared brown eyes blink up at him. All his anger vanishes.

“Type, this is Gulf.” Mild crouches next to the small boy whose clutching a soccer ball pillow like his life depended on it. And for all Gulf knew, maybe it did. Type frowns up at Gulf, thin brows pinched so tightly together. He looks so angry and lost.

The boy’s face was a little grey, a streak of black ash running up his temple into his hair. His clothes look dirty from both actual dirty but also ash like he’s just been near a fire. Gulf notes the soccer ball has singed pieces and his little fingers are wrapped in gauze. Another strip of gauze peaking out from under the collar of his shirt. His clothes look at least two sizes too big for him, pants rolled up a few times to tuck over his dirty shoes. There's a bloodstain down his left leg and Gulf can't tell if it's from Type of from some outside source but judging from the bruise marks around the little boy's neck he has a feeling which one it might be. What a rough night it must have been.

Gulf crouches down too. He holds out his hand and Type shakes his head, turning away from both of them. Mild sends him a look.

It takes a little bit of finagling to get Type inside the apartment. But now he’s standing in the kitchen staring at the fridge in a silent glare. Mew steps out of the dark hallway dressed in sleep pants and a shirt (Thankfully he's dressed. He seems to have caught onto the situation very quickly too).

“Type.” Mild calls softly but the boy doesn’t respond. Mild turns back to Gulf. “Thank you for this. It was a rushed situation.”

Gulf shrugs and Mild ushered them further away, still in the eyesight of the boy but hopefully with hushed tones, out of earshot.

“What happened?” Mew asks, hand cupping Gulf lower back comfortingly, he unconsciously leans into it.

“... So much.” Mild purses his lips before clicking his tongue. “Mostly I’ve been trying to get him out of his last foster home for a little while now for... reasons ... and then tonight it burnt down. The two adults... didn’t make it and the kids they had were all fine. Well, now a bit homeless but fine.”

“So he was... inside when it burnt?”

Mild nodded then shrugged. “I think there’s more to the situation but from what the reports say, the other kids were in the covered patio, -apparently that’s where they slept- but Type was kept somewhere else.” Mild paused for a second choosing his words, “According to the other kids they had a  _ special  _ liking for Type.”

Mew's hand slipped off Gulf back and the suddenness of it sent a cold chill over him.

“They didn’t...” Mew trailed off and Mild nodded solemnly. “But he’s a baby.”

“He’s eight.”

Eight?” Mew's eyes flew over the boy. Gulf could read the instant sadness in Mew's eyes. Type could easily pass for a four maybe five because of his size. His knees and elbows all bony, cheeks sunk in enough to see that he'd been eating but it definitely wasn't enough.

Mew was a softy at heart, Gulf had watched him get teary-eyed at the sad animal commercials. He'd tried to convince Gulf at least once a day to take home some animal they'd found on the street. Gulf could hear the sadness in his words. The heartbreaking feeling in the crack in his words. He felt it too though. “He’s so ...  _ small _ .”

"Yeah... He doesn't have the best attitude either. I mean it's been rough." Mild tugs Gulf arm pulling him a few steps further away. "They gave him a rape kit and did an STI panel at the hospital." Mild makes a sound between disappointment, exhaustion, and.. anger. The next words he said, Gulf understood the noise because he made one too. "They gave him a shot of penicillin and here-" He digs out of his pocket a tiny bottle of antibiotics, "-he needs to take these."

"These are for..."

"Yeah, thankfully it's something curable. I already have a test at three months and six months set up to make sure everything is fine. Just makes sure he takes those."

"Thankfully it's curable," Gulf said aghast. How could Mild be so casual about this? He could feel the rage inside his building, not at Mild but at the world. The people who did this to him. A child. This kid was so young and Mild was casual-

"Gulf." Gulf's jaw clenched, the words of angry swallowed down. "He's alive. At this point, I'm taking anything and everything I can as a positive. He went through shit-" Mild eyes glance over at Type before looking back to Gulf, "At least it's curable and he won't have to deal with a lifetime of pills and liver failure." Mild shoulders sag and Gulf feels his do the same. "He's going to struggle enough with all he's been through, just take this as the smallest of wins because it could have been worse and it still might be. He has barely begun his life and he's going to have to deal with a hellish amount of trauma."

Gulf runs a hand over his face before looking to Type. The boy had his pillow stuffed in his mouth, chewing softly at it. His tiny body sat on the floor, stiff and straight, as he stares at the fridge.

"Sometimes you have to believe in the little things to survive. Right now he needs that and everything you can give him to bring some light back into his life."

"Ok, yeah, - you're right." Gulf shuffles, uncrossing his arms. Mew's hand pressed into his back between his shoulder blades, thumb rubbing softly at his spine. “I'm sorry, Mild, I’ll take care of him. You should go get some rest.”

Mild nods and they make their way over to Type, he turns to look at them, face still pinched together. Gulf can't help but think how painful it must be, to feel so stiff and angry all the time. 

“I didn’t do it.” Type says defensively, hands fisting the soccer pillow so tight that Gulf worries about his fingers circulation with the gauze around them.

“You’re not in trouble.” Mild says softly, kneeling on the floor. “This is Gulf, remember-” Type looks to Gulf then down to Gulf pants (Gulf looks down to and see the soccer ball pattern), “-and Mew,” Type doesn’t look away but he twitches in acknowledgment. He seems fascinated by the design. Gulf can't help but think at least they'll have something in common that he can use to help bond with the kid. “-They’re going to watch over you for a little while.”

“I’m a good boy.” Type mutters, eyes slowly looking up to bore into Gulf's soul.

Gulf nods slowly. Type gives a single nod back before he finally looks away. Eyes glancing at Gulf pants as subtly as possible as he pretends to look at the fridge again. 

“I’m going to head out but do you still have my number?” Types lips form a tiny pout, he nods slowly reaching down to tap his pocket before his finger clench back into the pillow. “If you need anything call. But Gulf and Mew are super nice and will take great care of you.”

Mild talks to them for a few more minutes by the door before he leaves. Just final things they might need to know. To lookout for an email later with more information. The name and number of a psychologist that they should get Type into next week. Mild hints that Type stay might be a few months and Gulf reassures him however long is fine. He might have been reluctant during the call he definitely didn't mind. Especially not after seeing the boy. 

Mew takes a seat first beside Type and Gulf follows.

“Hey, Type.” Gulf reaches up to grab the bowl of snacks from earlier. “Are you hungry?”

Type looks at the bowl his mouth opening just slightly before he frowns and looks away. “Well if you get hungry you can eat anything from this bowl at any time. You don’t have to ask.”

“Anytime?” 

“Anytime.” Mew answers but Type stays focused on Gulf.

"I don't have'ta ask?"

"Nope. All yours." Gulf smiles setting the bowl between them.

Type shuffles forward, glancing between the bowl and Gulf as if waiting for Gulf to take it away. His little hands dig into the snacks before pulling out a pack of fruit gummies. Gulf can see the smile on Mew's face. Those were his favorite and Gulf made sure to keep some in his place just for the older male. 

Type struggles with the gauze around his fingers, the plastic slipping between them. Mew reaches out slowly taking the package just enough to tear it open before setting it back in his hands. Mew grabs a pack of his own tearing it open before smiling at Type. Mew waits until Type takes his first gummy before Mew eats one as well.

“Yum,” Mew says and Type mimics him softly. Gulf steals a gummy from Mew and does the same. A tiny smile forms between gummies. Looks like there's still hope for this little one. Mew coos softly beside him.

When the gummies are done, Type grabs a bag of popcorn he puts fist fills into his mouth, powdered cheese covering his lips and hands. 

Mew creeps past Type and gets a small glass of milk set in front of the boy.

He gulps it down after he finishes the popcorn, both hands having to cup around the glass. Gulf can see the slight cringe on Mew's face over the speed and the messy cup but all he can do is smile at how cute the boy was.

“He’s going to get hiccups.” Mew grumbles and Gulf elbows him. Type does get a few hiccups but doesn't seem fazed by them as he looks to the bowl again, reaching for a bag of pretzels but doesn’t open it, instead, he puts it between his chest and the pillow still clutched tight to him.

“You want more?” Type gulps, shaking his head. “Well if you do. Remember any time.” He puts the bowl back on the counter. He pushes into a stand, Mew follows, and a few seconds late Type does as well.

“Let’s go to the bathroom, we can clean your hands. I got you a toothbrush too.”

Type followed them silently to the bathroom. He can hear the slight crinkle of the bag between his chest and the pillow as they walk but doesn't comment on it. Hopefully, it's something he can help fix. Type fear of food shortages. He remembers learning about food hoarding in kids during his class. He'll wait and see if Type stops after a little while, if not it'll be something to bring up to the psychologist in the future.

“Do you want to wash up in the shower by yourself or do you want me to help you?" Type looks between the shower and Gulf a few times before he answers.

"I can do it."

"Ok, I'll be right outside the door if you need anything," Gulf says after he sets a towel on the counter and shows Type the shampoo, conditioner, and body soap was. He didn't have any kids ones so he'll see if Type wanted any tomorrow and he can buy some.

Mew leans heavily against him as he shuts the bathroom door. They're silent for a moment, listening to the soft sounds of the shower starting up. Gulf hears the curtains move as Type gets into the shower.

"I hate the world," Mew mutters into his neck, arms wrapped around his waist.

Gulf exhales slowly, "Yeah."

Mew kisses his cheek rubbing down his sides a few times before pulling away. "Do you want me to stay and help?"

Gulf looks at Mew, the dim light throws the hallway creates deep lines on Mew's face. He can see the darkness under his eyes. Mew hadn't gotten much sleep the past couple of days because of work and they'd stayed up pretty late before Mild had called. Mew looked exhausted and he had a flight to catch in a few hours.

"I can stay up and help if you need me to." He continues and Gulf knew that if asked Mew would. But Gulf knew he couldn't sleep on a plane and if he missed this much sleep he'd been grumpy.

Gulf cups his check before dropping a few kisses to those soft lips he loves so much. "Go to bed. I can handle this. He'll probably want to sleep after the shower anyway. Go get the bed warm for me."

Mew hums softly, a little bit distracted. "Tuck me in."

Gulf chuckles but nods and Mew drags him to the room. Stealing a few more kisses before he crawls into bed. Gulf pulls the covers up to his shoulders, kissing his forehead. "Want a bedtime story too?"

Mew seems to contemplate it for a moment then they both freeze as the sound of the shower turns off. "I'm good..." They both listened to the silence for a moment. "Wake me up if you need anything, ok."

Gulf lets himself be pulled down for another kiss before he heads back towards the bathroom. A bit later Type opens the door, skin looking much cleaner than before. The dirt, ash, and sot seem to have been washed away pretty well. 

That's when Gulf noticed a big mistake. Type was wearing the same clothes. He motioned for Type to stay still as he ran to his room to grab the smallest shirt he owns. He knew it would be big on Type but at least it was clean. 

"Hey buddy, instead of those dirty clothes why don't you wear this."

"It's yours."

"It is but you can wear it."

Type seems reluctant before he tentatively takes the shirt. "Do I have to change here?"

Gulf doesn't let himself think further on what that might have implied for previous times in Type life as he shakes his head. "You can change in the bathroom if you want."

Type chewed his bottom lip nervously, "Can we do the show now and not later. I'm tired."

The implications that Gulf had tried not to think about moments ago seemed to slap into reality. Fuck. The fact that it had happened so many times that Type expected it more than not .. fucking hurt. Hurt Gulf so he could only imagine what Type feel like doing... whatever it was that he thought Gulf might want. Double Fuck.

"Oh sweetie," Gulf tried to keep his face soft because he was afraid he might cry for all the things Type had been through and that wasn't fair. Gulf doesn't get to cry for Type in front of Type. "You don't even have to do that again, ok."

Type body seemed stiff like he was waiting for the lies. Lies of promises that the others had told him. Lies of safety and comfort that he never received. Lies that it wouldn't hurt or that he wouldn't have to do the things he didn't want to do. All the lies that Type should have never heard in the first place. "But I'm good," He sounded a little desperate and more than afraid, "-they said I was special."

Gulf gulps looking away for a moment at the crack in Type's voice, he takes a few breathes before he turns back to Type. "You are special buddy but that doesn't mean people can make you do stuff you don't want to do."

"I want to do it because they give me food and a bed without the other kids. The other kids pick on me. And the big kid tried to shove his fist in my butt but I yelled and then Mr. and Mrs. Dree came in and got mad because Mr. Dree was the only one allowed to touch me like that. "Type was hyperventilating, chest hiccuping, "I'm special. I'm good."

Gulf wasn't sure he could breathe anymore. So many emotions welling up in him. He wanted to bring kill the last family he'd been with, with his bare hands. Slowly and painfully. He wanted to take all of Type fears away. He wanted Type to know that it wasn't supposed to be that way. He wanted Type to be happy but afraid that if he didn't... fuck.. give someone a show he would be stuck in a room with however many other children who would do whatever they wanted to him. Type was so small. So cute. He had cute wide browns eyes and a tiny boop-able nose and Gulf wanted nothing more than to hug him and show him that kindness and love were still in the world but it wasn't that easy. He couldn't just hug Type and release him from the pain he'd been through. Type may never forget those things. Type may never get over those things.

At that moment, Gulf hated the world for what it'd done to Type.

What was he even supposed to say to let Type know he was safe and loved when Gulf was around. That he didn't have to do those things anymore. "I will never make you do that again, Type. Those things you had to do. You don't have to anymore. You can have your own bed without anyone taking it from you."

"What do I have to do to earn it?" Gulf almost wished Type would cry because he could see the tears glassing over his eyes but Type's posture was stiff, fighting every instinct he had inside his tiny little body.

"Nothing." Gulf Gasps softly, "Nothing at all. I promise."

Type shuffles his feet, his toes wiggling against the floor. His breathing evened out slowly as he took in the words. "You promise?"

"I promise." Gulf holds out his pinky. Type slowly reaches out with his and interlocks them before touching their thumbs together. "I can't break that promise. Now go change in the bathroom and I'll show you to your bed so you can sleep."

Type changes pretty quick and Gulf takes his dirty clothes from him before showing him to his room. He tells his about the nightlight, lamp, and noise machine - which Type turns on and settles on the soft waves sound. Gulf helps Type into bed, tucking him in like he did Mew earlier. He leans down to kiss his forehead without thinking before stopping. Type looks up at him in confusion. Gulf leans away but runs his palm over Types forehead, brushing the damp hair out of his face.

"Need anything else?" Type shakes his head, curling around his pillow. "Ok if you need anything I'm right in the next room. You can either find me there or just call my name and I'll be right here. You remember my name?"

Type nods but doesn't answer. Gulf waits for a few more beats before walking slowly to the door. He pulls it too, leaving a tiny crack.

He stood in front of the door for a little while. Trying his best to compose himself. He was so angry and sad and hurt and he couldn't understand how he could already love the little boy but he wanted to wrap him up and keep him safe.

He took a few deep calming breathes before checking on Type who had shuffled himself into the corner of his bed, back to the wall. Gulf pulled the door to before heading back to Mew and his bed. He wasn't really planning on sleeping tonight though but he needed Mew's comfort.


	2. Sometimes All you Need is a Fresh Take

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Type gets new clothes and learns to lean on Gulf just a little bit more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* I'm sorry fellow readers. I didn't notice that I keep switching between soccer and football and that's because I wanted to say football because that's what it's called everywhere else (basically) and here in the states they say soccer. Anyway, I think I changed it all to football but if you see soccer interchanged sometimes, I'm sorry.
> 
> This chapter is a little softer because the next one is .. rough. 
> 
> I also wrote a side story of How Mew and Gulf met in this Au that I'll post later. I think this will only be like 5 or 6 chapters, depending. and one spin-off chapter off a few years later.

Mew shuffles through the hall, travel bag rolling behind him. He stops at the door. Gulf waddles behind him, grumpy, blanket wrapped around him. They had gone to bed late because ... sex. They had had lots of sex because of Mew's departure. Because apparently, neither of them dealt well with separation. Then Mild called, Type showed up, Gulf had gotten up almost every hour to check on the kid (because  _ just in case _ , and it was his first-night Gulf didn't want him to feel alone) and now it’s 8 in the morning and they’d ( _ Mew,  _ Gulf was sure he didn't really sleep at all that night) gotten maybe five hours of sleep. 

Mew being the king of shorts sleeps (though he’s very adamant about it just being a learned trait because of his normally packed schedule) seems perky for having so little sleep. Gulf needs maybe 10 more hours to be satisfied.

“Oh, baby.” Mew wraps his toned arms around Gulf, pulling him tight. Dropping a kiss to his head. Gulf whines a little into his chest “Tell me how things go with Type. I’m going to call you as often as I can. I’ll message you all the time. You won’t even miss me.”

"You'll miss me first," Gulf grumbles into his chest, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. They both knew that Mew would be the first one to admit that he missed Gulf. He was the clingy one. Well, he was the most vocal about being clingy and whining about missing Gulf. Gulf on the other hand was just better about being silent about his sulking until Mew snuggled it out of him.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?” Gulf asks, pulling away to look at his handsome boyfriend. Damn Mew was too handsome this early, it really wasn't fair. 

“My ride should be here any minute.”

Mew pecks his lips once, twice then the third time worming his tongue into Gulf's mouth. Gulf immediately kisses back, tongue swiping back at Mews. Gulf hands tangle in Mew's hair, the blanket falling to the ground.

Mew's hands travel down his back, cupping his ass, his lips leaving a hot trail down Gulf's neck. Gulf grinds their hips together as a groan slips past his lips. "Fuck." He really wanted to right now. Mew wanted it to as he nipped at Gulf's ear.

Mew's phone dings in his pocket, the sound snapping Gulf out of the trance and he scrambles out of Mew hold, “Type.” He gasps out, eyes flickering to the hallway. He's panting and hard and Mew is still looking at him with loving eyes and swollen lips. "Type could be awake."

“Sorry." Mew whispers, only seeming half sorry. He glances down the hallway as well. "He’s probably still asleep." Mew turns letting out a whiney, loving yet pouty huff. " I love you.”  _ sap _ .

“Love you too.” Mew drops in another kiss, this one sort and staccato, and a tiny pop to his lips before heading out.

Gulf sighs running fingers through his hair, picking up the blanket and wrapping it back around his shoulders. He takes two steps back toward his room when he sees Type standing in the hallway -staring at him, football pillow clutches to his chest. Gulf stumbles back a step.

“Hey, buddy, how’d you sleep?”

“He left.” Type says blankly

Gulf waddled closer in his blanket burrito. “Just for a little while. He’s going out of town for some work. But he’ll be back.”

Type chest puffs up like he wants to say something but then it falls. He looks away bottom lip puffed out, feet shifting uncomfortably on the ground. Then Gulf smells it. He stepped closer. Yup. Type shrunk into himself, he looked dejected and remorseful as if knowing Gulf noticed what he'd done.

"What's wrong?" Type eyes filled with tears. "Oh, buddy what happened?" Gulf reaches his hand to comfort Type but the boy flinched away.

"I didn't mean to." Type snaps back defensively.

"I know buddy, I'm not mad." Gulf stands up and ushers Type into the bathroom. "Why don't you clean off, I'll get you something clean to wear while you do that."

Type seemed terrified and Gulf wasn't sure what to do. The way Type flinched away meant he didn't want Gulf's help, probably didn't trust him enough yet. And that was ok. But there was nothing he could say to calm the boy down. Nothing to prove that he wasn't mad.

"I'll be right back." He slowly walks out the door, leaving it open just a crack behind him. He throws the blanket back on the bed, grabbed another shirt for Type, he set it on the counter for Type who had jumped in the shower. 

Gulf grabbed the dirty clothes and threw them in the washer before stripping the bed, throwing the sheets in there as well. He cleaned off the plastic sheet - thankful he had it on the mattress. By the time he was done redressing the bed, Type was standing in the doorway, dripping wet but clean.

"Feel better?" Type shrugged. "It's ok, look-" He lifts a corner of the sheet to show Type the plastic cover. "This protects the mattress, easy cleanup. Nothing to worry about."

"I will wash it."

Gulf fluffs the sheets again back into their position, "I got it silly."

"If I don't wash them I can't eat." 

Gulf tries not to freeze at the statement. (He does a little, it's just instincts.) He crouches in front of Type touching his hand softly so he understood how serious Gulf was. Type didn't flinch away at the touch. "Yes, you can. I will always feed you. No matter what you do. I will always feed you."

"Always?"

"Always." Gulf rubs his thumb over the back of Type's hand a few times before standing up. Type still seemed a bit shaken. "Speaking of food let's go eat, Yeah?"

Gulf nudged Type towards the kitchen. He made a restroom stop, mostly to wash his face - he was exhausted. But it wasn't from the lack of sleep but the sheer amount of hate he had for how everyone seemed to have treated Type before him. The fact that there were human beings in the world like that. He took a few deep breaths. Then one more holding it as long as he could before letting it go. He grabbed Types medication before heading to the kitchen.

Type is sitting at the counter, feet tucked under him in the stool as eats fruit gummies, Gulf can see a pack in his pockets too.

He’s a little worried about the food hoarding but it doesn't seem excessive. It just makes him sad thinking about the life Type had before that made him think this way. "Hey, buddy, what do you want for breakfast?”

Type holds out his hand with the gummies. Type bandages on his hands were gone and Gulf assumes the boy took them off. His hands don't look that bad so he won't make him putt he gauze back on but he'll rub some cream on them later to heal the burn marks he can see. Gulf smiles softly at the offer.

“How about some real food instead. Eggs? Noodles?" Type doesn't give any signs of interest in the foods until, "Crispy pork?” Types face lights up before it shifts to a contemplative one.

“...Cake?” Type questions but he sounds unsure.

“Not sure if cake is good for breakfast-“ Gulf starts and Type quickly changes lanes worry clear in his posture.

“Crispy pork.” 

“Yeah,” Gulf says a little too excited. "We can do that." Mew would probably scold him for feeding Type crispy pork so early. And also for eating it too much because he'd had it last night as well. Good thing Mew wasn't there to nag him about it as he called. As Gulf orders the food he sends a smile to Type who relaxed a little at the action. 

Type finishes his gummies but doesn't reach for anything else. He stares at Gulf with a calculated look, looking between Gulf and the snack bowl a few times. Gulf could see the debate running through his head.

"Wanna watch some football?" Types eyes lit up as he nods quickly leaving the snack bowl to sit on the couch. 

The food had arrived just a little while after he started the rerun of a football match from a few months back. Gulf's little face in the bottom corner commenting on the plays as the players rushed across the screen. Type was in almost tranced instantly. His mouth hanging open as his eyes diligently followed the players. 

“How’s it going buddy?” Gulf asks helping Type get situated at the coffee table. 

Type looks up at him with big wide eyes, amazed. Lips tipped up at the edges. “I ...” He starts suddenly then stops, exhales. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, the peaceful expression from before long gone.

“You, what?” Gulf asks softly. Type shifts the food around in his bowl. “You can tell me.”

“Can you do that for me one day?” Type says in a whisper, eyes moving up to the screen as the men in jerseys ran across the field.

“You want to be a football player?”

Type seems to shrink into himself at the admission. Like the world had only told him I before and he no longer believed in his own dreams.

“I know I can’t but-“

“I’ll do commentary for every single one of your games if you want.” Type stuttered, hiccuping for a moment then gulped before shoving a big spoon full into his mouth. “Who wouldn’t want to for the next number one player?”

Type eyes shined with tears, his chewing slowed as he sniffles. Gulf slowly reaches up to ruffle his hair. He was cautious to watch just in case Type didn’t like the touch. 

“Will you teach me?” He asked a few minutes later when half his food was gone.

“How to commentate?”

“To play?”

“Of course. We can’t today but let me see what I can do about tomorrow. I’m sure I can get a few friends together for a real match.”

Type seemed a little scared by the comment. Like he was afraid more people would mean something bad. In his experience it probably did.

“Yeah, it's much better when you can beat others.” He taps Type's hand with his knuckle, Type looks up to him. “You’re gonna do great.”

Type eats the rest of his food without really paying attention but gives tiny little hums of joy after most bites. Seemingly enjoying his meal and in much higher spirits with the prospect of learning to play the game. Type doesn't seem to fight Gulf at all when it comes to taking his pill but he was so distracted with the screen. Gulf wasn't going to complain. After they finish eating Type leans back still entrapped in the game.

\-----

“We’re going to get you some new clothes. How do you feel about that buddy?” Gulf looks down at Type whose holding onto two of his fingers. He only came with two outs of clothes, the slightly burnt ones and not as much slightly burnt ones. Yesterday was the rest day (Type layed around in gulf old shirt wrapped in a blanket watching football) but today was new clothes day because Type needed something that actually fit him.

“ I have clothes.”

“Yeah, you do. But these will be better. Plus you're allowed to have more than two sets of clothes.”

Type stops walking, forcing Gulf to stop as well, and looks up at him, his tiny hand fist in this shirt. Gulf has somehow convinced him to leave the football pillow at home. Though now it seems like Type might need it back. “I can’t be selfish.” He says softly looking almost disgusted at the idea. “Day clothes and night clothes is all you need. Other kids need clothes too.”

The words sounded rehearsed like Type had heard them so many times before that they were truth now. 

Gulf crouches down in front of him, swinging their hands a little between them. “If it’s alright, I’d like to buy you some clothes and it’s ok if you want to be selfish now. I’ll allow it.”

Type looks torn, he looks away, brows furrowed together. Gulf wonders if his brows knew how to be apart. Gulf stands and they continue on towards the store, Type follows silently. It’s not till they're in between the racks of clothes that Type decides to speak but it soft and Gulf almost misses it because Type's talking at the floor.

“I’m scared to be selfish.” 

Gulf gulps, he turns towards Type, “You don’t have to be scared with me." Slowly lifting his hand to brush his hair behind his ear. Type leans into the motion just a tiny bit. "I promise. You can be a little selfish, I don't mind.”

For a second Type contemplates it. His hand moving so he can chew on the knuckle of his thumb for a moment. “You promise.”

“I promise”

“What do I have to do to earn them?” Type says around his thumb knuckle, looking scared yet excited at the prospect of new clothes. He wonders what Type had to do in the first place to get his clothes and how long he’s worn them. Way too long that's for sure especially if he had to 'earn' it to begin with. 

“Nothing at all.”

“Promise.” Types hand drops from his mouth, looking up at Gulf with wide eyes. There's a bit of trust hiding in those sparkling brown eyes.

“Promise,” Gulf confirms.

Type was still skeptical but followed Gulf around the store. After two hours of searching around and trying on clothes, they managed to find out Type's size (tiny, way too tiny in Gulf opinion). Gulf bought him four new outfits, a new set of pj's, and a soccer jersey and shorts. He couldn't wait to get to the field with Type to play a match together. He had a feeling the boy would love it. Plus he got a shirt with a ball emblem on it that sort of matched his pillow - Type had made heart eyes at it from across the room so Gulf had to get it.

Type hops beside him, hand gripping Gulf fingers with a new force as they walked back to Gulf's apartment. Type wasn’t talkative like Mew was (Gulf almost missed the chatter) but he had a certain (new) bounce in his step that fit his age. Gulf had managed to find a pair of shoes that fit him as well and they were currently strapped to his feet. That might also be the reason for the pep in his step. 

“Thank you, Mr.Gulf.” Type says as they wait at the crosswalk. “Shoes feel differently at this size.”

The size that fit Gulf thinks, they must feel so much different. “You don’t have to call me Mr. just Gulf is fine.”

Type nods, he doesn’t answer but he leans a little closer and that’s enough of an answer for Gulf.

Gulf throws the clothes into the washer when they get back to his place and Type takes a moment to set his shoes properly by the door, he even fixes Gulf's shoes, who'd never been picky about their placement. But Type reminds Gulf of Mew, who is constantly fixing things after Gulf. He’d seen Mew nudge his shoes into a proper position dozens of times before.

Type looks startled when he notices Gulf staring.

“I fixed it.” He says softly.

“You did. But it’s ok if you don’t want to.” Gulf pulls somethings from the fridge to cook for dinner. When he’d taken the fostering classes he’d also taken cooking classes. He still wasn’t great but he was getting better with every meal. Mew really liked it when he cooked for him too seeing as the older man could burn food in a cold pan. He could never understand how Mew could be so bad at cooking yet so good at basically everything else. The older male tried and while it was always sweet to watch and Gulf could force down somewhat undercooked while simultaneously being somewhat overcooked food every once in a while for Mew, he definitely tried to persuade Mew not to cook. He's thankful Mew lets him cook for the most part (or they order out, that's really their go-to). But Gulf feels like Type would enjoy some homecooked food.

He wonders if he could get his Mae to bring some food down in the next couple of days. Tye would love his Mea's cooking.

Type was standing behind the fridge door when Gulf closes it. “I want to.”

Gulf blinks a bit startled by his sudden appearance being so close, then remember the shoes. “Ok, that's great. My partner also likes his shoes neat too.”

“If it’s messy the bugs will hide in them.” Types tiny fist was bunching his shirt, a serious expression on his face.

“Good point.” Gulf smiles and Type stares back. "Guess we’ll keep them clean and tidy then." Type just stares back. Gulf wonders if this is what Mew saw when they first meet. Gulf isn't the most talkative with new people and it usually takes time for his walls to come down enough to really converse with people. He remembers their first 'date' (it was at a bar and wasn't really a date) being mostly silent on his part and he still wonders what Mew saw in him enough to continue trying. Not that's he's mad, he loves Mew and is really glad the older male decided Gulf was worth his time to try and date.

"Do you want me to put on a game for you?"

Type shakes his head before heading towards the living room. A few moments later and the sound of the Tv turns on, the soft mummers of a match echo into the room before he starts cooking again.

He’s halfway through cutting up some meat and vegetables when he feels a tug at his shirt. He looks down and Type is staring intently at his hip. “What's up buddy?”

Type gulps, leaning forward, his forehead pressing into Gulf's hip, his hand fisting Gulf shirt. Wiping his hand off with the towel he reaches down to place his hand over the tiny spine-y back he still for a moment as he makes sure Type is ok with the touch. He rubs it softly in circles when Type doesn't move away before testing to see if it was ok to touch Type's head. When Type doesn’t react negatively he runs his fingers through the dark locks. Type relaxes against him at the action.

“Feeling good?” Gulf feels that a safe question, he doesn’t want to scare Type away. He wants the boy to know that if he needs touch, Gulf can give it to him. Safety. Comfort. Gulf will give whatever Type needs to him.

Type lifts his other arm to wrap around Gulf hips gripping his shirt in both hands now. Gulf smiles.

“Ok buddy, but I need to finish cooking because I know you're hungry.” Type grumbles something into his shirt. “You don’t have to move but-“ Gulf shifts and lifts Type enough to set him on his feet. It was a little painful but he could waddle around with Type in the kitchen. Type whines, shifting to get comfortable again against Gulf's stomach.

"Thank you." Gulf feels the words more than hears them. He scratches Type's head for a few more moments as Type lets out a shuddered breath. Gulf can feel the relief flooding through Type.

Dinner took time, more than usual but he didn't let it bother him. He moved slowly and tried to angle Type away from the stove as he cooked.

His free hand scratching over Types hair when he could as he cooked with his other. It was ... tedious and tough (Maybe a little bit annoying at times) and his feet had long since gone numb but he didn’t dare try to remove Type. At least not till he was done cooking and set Type at the table.

Type doesn’t latch back on after they eat but he stays close by as Gulf washes the dishes. Type sits on the kitchen floor a few paces away, his football pillow finding it’s placed back clutched to his chest. Watching Gulf's every move. 

\----------------------

Gulf walks Type to the park, ball under his arm. Type was wearing his new jersey and shorts. He had proudly showed Gulf how well he tied his shoes before leaving. Gulf clapped his hands loudly and cheer. “You did it Type woo hoo.”

Types tiny fist swung out at his embarrassment. Gulf caught, shaking it happily. “Everyone can tie shoes.”

“Sure they can but you're not everyone, and I’m proud of you,” Gulf says proudly, wanting dearly to boop that nose as it and Type's cheeks grew rose in his shyness.

He spots Mild sitting at a bench, typing away on his phone. He hands the ball to Type and show’s him the field before sitting next to Mild. They sat in silence for a few minutes as Mild finishes his email. He watches Type as he stumbles after the ball. He still needed to work on his coordinator it seems.

“How is he?” Mild starts, leaning back.

Gulf tilts his head towards Mild before forcing his eyes off of Type. Mild smiles. “He’s a good kid.”

“All kids are good kids. Just some didn’t learn how to express it and need help finding it within themselves.”

Gulf chuckles nudging Mild with his shoulder. “Did you go to another one of your inspirational talks? I thought you hated the lady that teaches them.”

“I do hate her. She has a record of lying about her community service and I saw her snap at a kid once for touching her dress.” Mild grumbled and Gulf could see the very fumes steaming from his ears as he muttered more atrocities the woman had done. She wasn’t that bad Mild just wanted everyone to be as kind-hearted as he was and that wasn’t the world. Though Gulf knew that unfortunately more often than not those were the types of people Mild dealt with. That’s how you got funding, sucking up to rich people with bad attitudes who pretended to be gracious. Gulf had seen his fair share of them at his job as well.

“Anyway.” Mild says a bit too loudly, snapping Gulf's attention back to him. “I may hate her personality but she’s a renowned trauma psychologist and she does have some good points about care and child mentality after a traumatic situation.”

“You could just read her book instead.”

Mild gasps (it’s fake and overly dramatic with a giggle right after). “And give her my hard-earned money. I think not. I will go to conferences where she speaks for free or nothing at all.”

“But you own all her books.”

Mild scrunches his nose in annoyance, flicking Gulf in the arm. “Those were bought at a second-hand shop. I support local businesses.”

“Gulf.” Both of their heads snapped towards Type. The boy was waving pointing to the ball in the goal. “I did it.”

Gulf stands up clapping pounding and cheering, much like he did with the shoes earlier. Type gets all shy and looks away.

“He really is a good kid.” Mild says when he sits back down. “Honestly surprised at how quickly he’s growing trust you.”

“I am too. I think it’s because we watch football together. He likes it.”

“Maybe your just a child whisperer like I am and you should join me in my quest to save every child possibly.” Mild was only half-joking and they both knew it. If Mild could he would swoop in save all the kids like a superhero saving the day. He would. He'd definitely wear a cape while doing it too.

Gulf lets out a tiny huff, “Sounds exhausting. Type is enough work for me.”

Mild gives a noise of agreement before snapping, “Oh by way, has he been taking his meds?”

“Yeah, not a problem at all.” Gulf chews on his words for a moment. “Very  _ obedient _ .”

“He was  _ special _ .” The word didn’t sound good coming out of Mild's mouth like that. But it covered for all the implications it needed to. “Has he mentioned any pain... “ Mild motioned to his pelvis. Gulf eyes followed Type as he hobbled down the field, he hadn’t really taken notice before but he did hobble.  _ Limp _ his brain supplied when he refused to think it.  _ He’s limping _ .

“No, but he wet the bed and asked me if he needed to do any favors for things.”

“Understandable.” It was a cold silence after that. 

Gulf didn’t want it to be understandable. It shouldn’t be understandable. It should be the farthest thing from understandable. And yet... that seemed like the only reasonable response because it was understandable after Type's experience.

“The police report came in.” Mild shifts, drumming his fingers over his knees. “It looks like the fire was started by the stove. They can’t figure out if it was accidentally or not. They have set up times to talk to all the kids.”

“Do you think it was? An accident?”

Mild hums, pushing himself into a stand. “It was even if it wasn’t.” 

Gulf looks up at Mild. “You think it was him?”

Mild sighs. “I talked to some of the other kids that night. It was either him or an older boy named Mic. It's Type's turn to make an official statement in three days.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come talk to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kanasprout) if you want


	3. Trauma - Please Don't Cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mentions (and depictions) of child abuse and sexual assault. Rape of a Child.  
> Please be warned.
> 
> Type tells his story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is smaller but the emotion is strong in it and it felt wrong to break it up with other scenes. I tried to lighten the mood at the end but it is still heavy.
> 
> I took some quotes from [Here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bH36JJJWDUo)
> 
> and the last one is lyrics from Nanna [Here](https://twitter.com/net_drifter/status/1329387058889109504)
> 
> I tried a different style for this because I thought the words between would help with the story but I hope it doesn't confuse the readers or anything.

_/Trauma is a pain so severe and so stressful that it imprinted itself upon you./_

Gulf walks next to Type as they enter the courthouse. They are met with an attorney and Mild who direct them to a smaller room. Type sits very small and still looking like a statue of himself in the big leather chair. The judge sits at the front of the table, Gulf and Type on one side, Mild and the attorney on the other. "Eye Siwapoh but call me Eye, all the kids do", A child phycologist sits at the other end of the small yet long table. She smiles at him but it's faint. Papers spread out in the middle along with a recorder. Type nails are digging into his jeans, Gulf can hear them pulling against the fibers. He reaches over and covers them with his own. Type pulls away from the touch looking spooked and scared and a breath away from running away from the situation.

_/Trauma isn't measured by severity, it's measured by surprise and it has to do a lot to with expectations. /_

They start off by stating why they're there, the claims, and events. Type states his name, age, and other information that the courts might need. Gulf states his name and position (foster parent) as well, just in case. The recorder blinks red capturing every word.

"Why don't you start off by telling us about the family and the other kids you lived with."

Type was reluctant to start, there was a long heavy pause as he looks around the room at all the adult faces around him before landing on Gulf. If fear and heartbreak had a look it would be Type in the moment. Afraid that whatever he might say could have him taken away from Gulf. That his words would send him back to a place like he was before.

"I don't want to leave you." He knew he shouldn't but he couldn't stop himself from tugging the boy's chair closer and pulling him into a hug.

"I will do everything I can to protect you." He said into Types hair. He let Type calm down against him for a moment before pulling away and holding up his pinky. "I promise."

"Promise?" Gulf nods and Type pink wraps with his tapping their thumbs together. They separate and Type looks once again too small for the chair but he looks at Mild who repeats the questions.

"Tell me about your foster family and the kids that were there with you."

_/Traumatic memories.... are like portals to the past, a portal that wants to transport you back into the moment of crisis... and it's alarming and confusing and overwhelming./_

"The older boys didn't like me at first because Mr.Dree said I was pretty. That my eyes reminded him of his first wife. At first, he would just stare at me and the others would make fun of me. Then one night two of the other kids broke something... I don't know what it was because I was in the bedroom but Mr. Dree was really mad about it. He punished us all that night. Pulled down our pants and beat up with his belt until we bleed." Type looked over at Gulf and then looked away he seemed ashamed, cheeks get flaming red as his hand's fist over his lap. ashamed that he'd done something wrong in that situation and now. Even when he hadn't.

"He didn't let me go after like the others, He put me in his closest and a couple of hours later he came back. That was the first night he told me I was special. That I could sleep inside in the room all by myself. I only had to do him a favor. He said it wouldn't hurt."

_/Like maybe you didn't know life was that fragile or that people could be that malicious... or that you were being used. /_

Gulf tried not to listen because listening hurt. Every word ripped at Gulf soul and the hate grew and festered inside him as he listens to the types of favors that Type was asked to do.

"If I put his..." Type searches for the word, confusion scrunching his face, "I don't know the name for it. Mr. Dree called it his snake but the older boys called it playdough when they touched mine."

"Penis." Eye, the child psychologist at the end of the table states calmly. Type nods.

"Penis," He tested the word before continuing his story. "I put his... Penis in my mouth I could watch Tv for an hour. If he put it in my... butt I could sleep in the room alone. But sometimes when he was mad he would take it without asking. Sometimes Mrs. Dree would watch it was scary because she would hold my face and I wasn't allowed to look away from her."

Type pulls his knees up to his chest, hiding behind them

_/The revelation that life is so much more evil/_

"That night Mr.Dree was really mad because Mrs.Dree was kissing one of the other kids, Mic. Mr.Dree didn't like that and they started arguing in the kitchen when Mrs.Dree was cooking. We all hide in the new bedroom, it was outside in that room-" The covered patio. Mild had mentioned it before and Gulf the attorney and Eye taking notes, "- and shut the door, we could hear them through the glass. A pan flew through the door and glass pieces went everywhere. It was really scary. Mrs.Dree was furious about it."

Gulf has learned that Mic was fifteen, the oldest of the children in the house. He'd also picked on Type the most. Gulf looked over to Mild who sent him an empathetic look. He must have already known most of this information because he wouldn't be this calm if it was the first time hearing it. Gulf wasn't that calm. He wanted vengeance. He wanted their blood- a vicious thought to have. He didn't know how to handle these emotions or the emotions Type was feeling in a proper way. He was used to sleeping when he had a big problem and it usually fixed itself when he woke up. That wasn't good advice, Type needed more than a good night's sleep to fix his problems. But Gulf wished it was that easy. Because then Type wouldn't be sitting here awkwardly in a room full of stoic adults retelling his abuse like it was nothing. Crying softly into his knees and Gulf couldn't even comfort him. because he'd tried and Type flinched away. Probably living in those memories and he talks.

_/More dangerous, than you thought./_

"Mic went into the kitchen and he took over cooking because Mrs.Dree left the house. Mr. Dree found me and pulled me into his room. I didn't want to because he was so mad and he was always really mean when he was mad. If he was ..calm he would use that cold jelly stuff that made it hurt less but if he was mad he wouldn't. It always hurt to move the next day. I didn't want to. I didn't -" Type hiccuped into his knees, his chest heaving.

"Why don't you take a moment Type, It's ok." Eye’s voice was soft as it drifted over but it just made Type pant harder, his hands gripping his hair. He didn't listen and continued on.

"He pulled off my pants and tried to shove it inside. He told me not to move but it hurt so bad. I didn't want to. I didn't want it. So I hit him and pushed him away. I used all my might and he felt back and didn't get up." Type shoulders convulsed, his body shaking, "I called his name but he didn't move. I-I didn't mean to. I didn't know what to do. I don't want to be in trouble. I didn't know what to do."

Desperation. Fear. Disparity. Sorrow. Angry. Pain. And all the other thesaurus words that Gulf can't think of to describe Type, his words, his actions. It hurt. Type pain was visceral and deep and coating every word he said.

Eye walks around the table to crouch down near Type's chair, leaving plenty of room between them. "Type you don't have to say anymore, you did great."

"But I didn't let him." He says like he was supposed to let someone do those things to him. Gulf was once again hit with the fact that Type had been condition his whole life to do what adults say in order to survive and it had been to his detriment. "I don't want to be in trouble."

_/This feeling that things are going to go wrong and fall apart/_

"You're not in trouble Type." Eye smiled at him but Type looked away then he looked over to Gulf.

"I can stay with Gulf?" He asks Gulf but the question was really for anyone who would give him the answer he so desperately wanted.

"You can stay with Gulf." It was Mild who answered

Type didn't talk much after that, his tears continue to fall down his cheeks as everyone talked around him. Gulf has tried to comfort him but Type moved away, so Gulf sat on his hands to prevent himself from trying again. Typ needed time to collect himself.

Eye had commented on how to calm himself down, helped him breathe. talking him down from his panic. Gulf tried to take notes in case he needed the information in the future. Her gentle and calm words seemed to work enough that Type was no longer panicking.

They went over some other event of the night, asked Type a few more statements. The judge in the end sat in silence, his fingers thrumming on the table before he spoke.

"Self defense. Since there is no one but the state checking into this it doesn't need to go to court. Let the State rule: Self Defense. The plaintiff may stay with his current foster parent as long as mandatory psychologist appointments are followed through and future check-ups from the Social worker go as they should."

Eye had pulled him aside before they left to set up an appointment for Type the next week. Gave him a few tips on support. He thanked her profusely.

Mild followed them back to Gulf's apartment. The trip was silent, Type keeping out of reach. When they got back to the apartment he goes to his room, leaving the door cracked like Gulf does at night.

Gulf wants to follow but he doesn't. It's not the right time. Eye had told him that everyone processes differently and sometimes comfort comes of as too much when your reliving trauma. Space is important and he should wait until Type asked to be back in his space.

He would respect that. It hurt hearing the tiny sobs behind the door. It took everything in him not to run in their and comfort Type. But Type had been more than reluctant just to be near them on the way home so he knew it would be too much.

_/It's like something just overtakes you and you don't know what to do./_

Mild stays for a little bit, they talked. Mild was just as sympathetic pulling Gulf close by an arm around his neck. He bumped their foreheads together and Gulf broke down, crying into his friend's shoulder.

"Is it too much?" Mild asks gently, Gulf can hear the wetness in his voice like he'd been crying too. 

Gulf understood the implications behind the question. Was it too much for Gulf to handle? Could he continue to take care of Type? Would he be able to help Type? Does he want to continue to help Type? Did he want to keep Type?

Yes, he did. He wanted Type. Type was his now. He didn't care if he'd only known the boy a short time. He wanted to give Type a good life, see him happy. Watch him grow in football until one day he'll play for the pros. He wants to watch Type be smart. Caring. To be show Type that sometimes life doesn't have to be hard. Something that Types never had a chance to see. He wants Type to see love. He wants to give it to him. Most of all he just wants to see Type happy.

So is it too much? Yes. Yes, it was. It was way too much and Gulf was scared that he wouldn't be able to do those things for Type that maybe somehow he would make it worse for Type. That he wouldn't be able to give Type all those things. Yes, It was too much.

But no, he would not give up on Type.

"No." He says finally pulling out of Mild's shoulder. Mild wipes his tears, shaking his face a little between his palms.

"This is why I told you I trusted you with this kid." He ruffles Gulf hair affectionately. "I knew he would trust you too."

Mild coos at Gulf for a second before pushing his face away, sighing dramatically. "You're so much cuter up close, why didn't I steal you away before Mew did."

Gulf snorts a laugh, "Because falling in love in a dirty smell changing room in high school isn't romantic at all."

"I don't know, having sex in one is pretty fun though." Mild sends him a greasy wink.

Gulf gags, "Gross, do you know how many unclean penises and asses have touched those benches. How does Boat put up with you?"

Mild leans back into the couch pushing Gulf over with a sarcastic laugh, "I watched Mew try to rub you off on the subway a few months ago, that's gross."

"It's not like I wanted to do that," Gulf grumbled, crossing his arms petulantly over his chest, "I told him to wait till we got home."

"Home." Mild says like a hum, chuckling a little as he closes his eyes, relaxing into the couch. Gulf relaxed into the couch as well. He remembered the way Mew had smiled after he said the word home to him too. 

Mild leaves a little while later and Gulf moves to sit in front of Type's door. The crying had stopped but he could still hear the tiny sniffles and the soft sounds of the waves from the sound machine.

He couldn't help but think of a day when maybe Type would call it home as well. He wondered if there would be a day when they would wake up in a place that they all called home. Where Type felt safe.

He leaned his head against the door, wrapping his arms around himself.

_/I promise you... please have trust in me. I just want you to be here... I'm ready to look after you well. Let me be that person/_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you guys think. Thanks for reading!
> 
> Come talk to me on [Twitter](twitter.com/kanasprout) if you want


	4. Types Memoirs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Excerpt:  
> He thought maybe this is what they felt like. Exhausted by the world and the only solace being something that feels safe. A feeling he wasn’t even fully sure he was experiencing but hoped beyond hope he was.
> 
> Gulf wasn’t as good as the people on the radio he’s heard, sometimes he would make a mistake, then grumble. Hum the same note a few times before starting up again.
> 
> Type likes this better than the radio. 
> 
> Or  
> A short look through Type's eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post this chapter and the next one together but then I got a little stuck on some transition scenes in the next chapter and it's taking me longer to finish it than I planned. But I feel like I've left this story alone for too long so I'm posting this chapter and will hopefully have the chapter finished soon.
> 
> sorry for the long wait though.
> 
> The first part of this story covers Type from before Gulf to current just as a heads up to not confuse anyone on the timeline hopefully.

Type didn't think he'd have to see anyone from that place ever again. Or at least he never wanted to. He was living with the unadulterated hope that part of his life was over. Sure he lived with the reoccurring memories of the nightmares of his past. He suffered from the demons of his thoughts. His fears grew like moss in an unattended pond, seemingly absent one moment and taking over the next. 

Eye had discussed with him how it could and would get better but it was something that he had to work on. The constant struggle of addressing the things he fears the most. Not letting them take over his mind. He often wondered 'Why Him?' Why not someone else? Why was he chosen and not the others? 

Why did he have to hurt then and continue to suffer even now when it should be a distant memory? Why wasn't it over yet? What had he done to deserve it in the first place? Was there something he could have done to prevent it?

He didn't know how to ask those questions and he's not really sure he'd get the answer that he's want. What were the answers that he wanted? 

He had all but assumed that life was just.. this. Was just the moments of fear, hiding, pain, panic... then a moment of air -just the intake of breath into his lungs- and the cycle starts all over again. The way those fingers caressed his cheeks and told him that he was precious, special, wanted, needed. That he was important. 

It hurt so much more coming from the same lips that called him useless, a creature, that he was taking up space. Tell him that he was nothing more than what he could give. He didn't really understand it. What it meant or how deep the words would cut.

He could be good, he could follow orders and be the obedient child that the adults had wanted. In the first home he was at, he remembers, the adults spoke with fists and angry words. He learned that silence was the only option. The second home proved that theory correct. Silence was the best option. Crying in the middle of the night served to be more therapeutic than crying in front of the ones laughing at you while causing you pain.

"Yes Sir" and "Yes Ma'am" became automatic responses when their presence became known. If he did well, if he listened right, if he stayed quiet and followed directions... Maybe it wouldn't hurt as bad. Maybe he could fall into the background of the room. Become one with the shadows. Evade existence in peaceful silence.

He was ok with the silence. Liked it even.

Maybe that's why he hadn't been exactly truthfully about that night.

He had been the one to find Mic and Mrs. Dree kissing in the kitchen. A weird sense of jealousy boiled up in him. Seeing Mic push Mrs. Dree around, smiling as he took off his shirt. He never felt like smiling or laughing when those things happened to him. He never felt much joy during those times. Disgust. Anger. Sadness. But never joy.

Mic had caught him staring. Sneering and yelling at him to get out. That had been how Mr. Dree had found them. That had been how it started. But Mic wasn't done. He was furious. He took Type and locked him in the closest. Mr. Dree's special closest. The place that took Type's hopes and dreams away for the first time. 

He filled the house with gas, the smell filtering through the door. Type could hear the glugging of the liquid splashing around through the wood. He could hear the yelling, screaming. The arguing between them. He could hear the violence of skin against skin - the slap of a punch. Mr. Dree had stumbled in, finding him like a snake finding a wounded prey. Piercing eyes like liquid nitrogen over his bones. He was already drunk out of his mind and now furious. Vicious hands tore at him. Type had pushed him away but Mr. Dree's cigarette had fallen from his mouth as he hit the floor sparking the gas on the carpet. He took his chance at the minute distraction and pushed. Mr. Dree's body slammed to the ground with a thud that rumbled the liquid around him, splashing it into the air. The fire already beginning its dance across the floor around Mr. Dree's still body.

Mic was there in the living room, face bleeding and battered, holding Mrs. Dree's limp and bloody body as he threw the lighter into the air. Type had made it outside the door just before the boom echoed through the air as the windows shattered and the house shook. 

He could see the other kids standing, watching just a few steps away from the house. The obedient silence feeling like a collar between hope and reality. The flames engulfed the house like a child's fire painting, messy and outside the lines. It's roar beckoning him, calling him to its warmth. And for a second, just one. Type thought about stepping back into the house because the thought of going on and dealing with anything else felt too heavy for his weary battered soul.

Type can't say that he remembers anything else that night. Not the police or the incessant questions. Not the way the social worker looked at him with sorrow in his eyes. Not the way his heart felt as the two new people looked at him.

He doesn't remember the taste of the food or the feeling of the bed. Everything was hollow and bland. Even taking a breathe felt like a mistake, something that maybe wasn't his turn to take.

Gulf looks nice. But so did Mr. Dree at first. So did his first family. But they didn't have that same sparkle like Gulf did. They didn't talk to him in such a voice like Gulf did, which made him feel heard for the first time in his life and he hadn't even said anything yet.

They didn't smell like hope.

It was feeling new clothes in his grasps, tucking his feet into shoes that fit, Gulf hand rubbing his head. Gulf making him food. Gulf smiling down at him like he wasn't lying when he said he wanted to help. Type, for the first time, wanted touch. He wanted to feel the comfort and warmth from someone who cared instead of the cold calloused hands of his thoughts.

He likes listening to Gulf's heart when they stood close enough. The way his hands seemed to make the pain go away even for the briefest of moments and believe that maybe there was something past the darkness of the closest.

\---------------- 

Type couldn’t see much in the darkness but he could feel the shadow hands dragging up his arm and wrapping around his neck. The moist breath smelled of cigarettes and beer. The same beer from the cans that fill the floor around them. 

The piercing pain.

_ Be a good boy _ he thought,  _ it’ll be over quicker _ . Repeating over and over like a broken record. Getting louder and louder until he could no longer hear the pants against his ear.

His arms felt like lead. He couldn’t move them if he tried. He wanted to. He really really wanted to. 

It hurt.

“Type.” That wasn’t a voice he usually heard. This one was new. This one sounded nice. “Type wake up, it’s just a nightmare.”

Type tried to move his arms or his legs or anything. He wanted to pull away and run to that voice. He couldn’t see where it was coming from. But he knew where to find it.

The darkness pulled him tighter and tighter, the pain getting worse as worse until he surfaced with a gasp. Air pelted his lungs as he tried to take in as much as possible. His limbs flailing around, finally moving to block him from the darkness. He kept kick and punching and pushing, getting further and further away from the feeling of those hands on his skin.

“Type.” The voice. So sad. He slows to a stop. Eyes finally taking in the dimly lit room. The soft sound of waves fill his ears. 

Gulf sat on the floor, hands cupping his jaw.

They sat in tense silence. Type felt blank. Tired. Lonely. He could feel the hot tears rubbing down his cheeks but they felt fake against his skin. Like maybe he wasn't supposed to cry for pushing the hands away. For not pushing them away quick enough. For letting them touch him in the first place.

“It’s ok buddy,” Gulf's voice was soft and gentle much like his hands were when they touched Type in the kitchen. When they rubbed his back and scratched his head. They were a different type of gentle, something he’d never felt. “You’re safe now.”

Type didn’t know how much he needed those words until he heard them from Gulf. He cried harder. So hard his eyes burned as his body shook. He wanted gentle touches again but the thought of Gulf getting any closes makes his pulse race.

Gulf frowns and then Type can’t see him anymore, vision blurred from the tears.

Soft humming fills the room, it melds with the waves like a delicate siren. He remembered watching a show at his last house, everyone piled into the living room. They hadn’t finished it but Type remembers a mermaid. She sprouted from the ocean to sing at the men aboard the boat with a song so beautiful they followed her into the waters.

He thought maybe this is what they felt like. Exhausted by the world and the only solace being something that feels safe. A feeling he wasn’t even fully sure he was experiencing but hoped beyond hope he was.

Gulf wasn’t as good as the people on the radio he’s heard, sometimes he would make a mistake, then grumble. Hum the same note a few times before starting up again.

Type likes this better than the radio. 

Gulf leaned against the dresser, legs outstretched towards Type. His eyes closed as he hummed.

Type scooted closer to the edge of the bed, focusing on nothing but everything about Gulf. Trying to remember this moment in case it was the only one he got.

When Type wakes up the next morning, Gulf is still asleep leaning against his dresser.

He crawls out of bed, brushes his teeth, and heads to the kitchen. He eats a gummy snack as he looks around. Gulf had said he didn’t need to help but it felt wrong not to. He’s never not had something to do. Always something to earn his keep. Plus Gulf had helped him last night, it would only be right to repay him in some way.

He hadn't repaid Gulf at all for the things he's done or the clothes he'd gotten him.

He pushes the stool up to the sink where a few dishes as drying. He can put these away. Gulf would like that. Cleanliness. That was good.

Just as he pulls the first dish he hears feet running down the hall and Gulf sliding around the corner. He looks frazzled and crazy, hair stuck down on one side where’d slept.

“Type.” He gasps. “What are doing?”

He didn’t sound mad but confused. Scared even.

Type wobbles on the stool, dish stagnate in his hand. “Cleaning.”

“Oh, buddy,” Gulf sighs, chest heaving a little as he shuffles closer. Is Type in trouble? This doesn’t make sense. Was he supposed to be done before Gulf got up? Was Gulf mad- “It’s dangerous to stand on the stool like that.”

Gulf's hands scoop under his armpits lifting him up to set him on the ground before taking the dish from him. Type pouts, he feels like he might cry.

What’s going on? 

“I have to help.” He says softly, gulping down the fear that’s crawling up his spine.

Gulf puts the dish away before turning to him. He looks confused than sad. “I can do it, you don't need to help with this.”

“I have to.” He insists. It didn’t make any sense, he has to put the dishes up. He wasn’t given any other job. They all had jobs. Gulf said he didn’t but it didn’t make sense. He couldn’t  _ not  _ have one? 

How was he to prove that he deserved to stay with Gulf? Did Gulf not want to keep him?

“You don’t have to-....” He could feel tears bubbling up into his ears, burning his tear ducts. 

“I want to stay.” Type stomps his foot, fist tightening at his sides, he wouldn’t let Gulf give him up without a fight. “You can’t send me back because I’m useless. I can clean. I can cook too. I’ve done it before. -Here look I can show you.”

Type twists around so quick his feet stumble over themselves, words pouring out his mouth just as quick as his defiant tears. He stumbles a few steps. Hands just about to reach the stove when he’s scooped up. He blinks as he stares at Gulf's shoulder. His chest feels tight and he can’t quite breathe but it’s not from Gulf's hold. Or Gulf touch like he thought it would be. It's the panic inside at the thought of leaving Gulf. 

Then he’s crying. It’s torrential. Hands fisting at Gulf's shirt as he rubs his face into the fabric, tears, and snot soaking the shirt. 

“Please don’t send me back. Please.” He’s yelling. He can’t even help it. He just feels the words as they rip out of his throat. He hiccups his breath searching for air that he can’t get.

“Type, type.” A hand rubs at his back, it forms a constant circle, circle, circle. “Take a deep breath buddy."

“Please, please. I want to stay.” He screams. He can almost feel the phantom hands in his body, the voice in his head yelling. It’s Mic, Mr. Dree, Mrs. Dree, and all the kids from the other house. They’re calling him. He can hear their yelling. The smashing of glass. The snap of the leather belt.

His body heaves a giant shudder and Gulf pulls him closer. 

His nightmare slowly steps into daylight and he can’t wake up.

He feels lips on his temple.

That’s Gulf. Gulf isn’t like the others. Gulf is nice. Gulf has a soft touch that makes him feel secure.

A hand on the back of his head presses gently into his scalp, rubbing softly in a soothing fashion.

He shudders again but this time the air fills his lungs and it feels like a relief.

“That’s it, take a breath.” He can feel Gulf's chest expanding against his. He breaths in and then exhale, his chest chasing Gulfs. He focuses on that. Breathing. He can feel Gulf muttering words to him.

“You’re doing so good.”

It takes a little bit before Type feels calmer. He feels exhausted like he’d just run a marathon. He almost can’t keep his eyes open. He didn’t feel like he slept last night and now this crying just made his eyes sting in a way that can only be soothers with sleep.

Gulf stands as Type's hands tightening around his shirt. There’s a second where Gulf freezes then he huffs Type onto his hip. Type legs dangle down and he almost feels too big for this hold but he doesn’t want to move.

“Why don’t we..." Gulf bounces him a little in his hold, "-you can help me... put the dishes away?" Gulf heaves him up, getting a better grip around him with one hand. "You can think about what you want to eat while we do it too.”

Type sighs in Gulf's neck. His hands feel heavy but he also doesn’t want to not help. He can’t sleep now, they just woke up. He has to help.

“Or we can nap?” Gulf suggests and Type's arm flaps out from around Gulf's neck from where it had been, hoover out for a dish to help.

Gulf bounces him a little and he whines at the motion this time. “Want food?”

Type whines again.

“Buddy, you gotta give me something. I know you're hungry. I sure am.”

He should help, then eat, and then it’ll be late enough to sleep. “I’ll help.” He says finally.

He doesn’t really help much. He stays mostly attached to Gulf because Gulf keeps the voices and the hands away. Gulf is warm in a way he’s never experienced. He helps Gulf lift the dishes and the let’s go so Gulf can put them up. His face stays half-buried in Gulf neck so he isn’t sure that he’ll remember where anything went either.

When all the dishes were up he still doesn’t want to let go yet. But he does. He does because he's indulged long enough and he doesn't want to upset Gulf. He wiggles and Gulf lets him down.

"We are going to see Dr. Eye today," Gulf says once they're sitting at the table eating breakfast. He sips on a Pedialyte that Gulf says is good for him but doesn't taste that great. Gulf seems happy when he drinks it so he doesn't complain.

"Again?" They'd already meet with her once before and she asked him all kinds of questions about how he was feeling, what bothers him. Showed him squiggly lines on a paper and asked him to read them. He wasn't very good at it. He remembers being in a class when someone tried to teach him to read but they stopped taking him.

"Yeah," Gulf says softly, He handed Type a pill, and Type takes it. He doesn't like the pill but Gulf said it's only for a little while and is helping him count down the days by counting the remaining pills until he doesn't need it anymore. "You'll see her once a week until you feel like you don't need to anymore. I also have to talk to her about you going back to school."

"I don't want to go back."

"To see Dr. Eye? or School?"

"Both."

"I know, but I'll try to help you any way I can." Type didn't say anything back but he didn't like school. The other kids made fun of him because he didn't know what they knew. Because his clothes were dirty and torn. Because he limped sometimes and had bruises. He didn't like school or the kids at school. He definitely didn't like the sad look in the teacher's eyes when they stared at him.

Gulf ushered him back to his room after breakfast to get changed. They headed out shortly after.

"How about this.." Gulf prompts slowly. Type hanging onto the edge of his shirt as they walk past the parking. "If you do really well at Dr. Eye's appointment. I'll take you for ice cream."

"Can we play soccer instead?" Type looks at him with hopeful eyes.

"Of crouse we can." Gulf's hand slowly curled into his hair, scratching lightly.


	5. We struggle together - because we're family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Type punches someone but this time Gulf is in full support of it until he realizes he's in no position to protect Type from the newly formed danger.
> 
> or
> 
> Type struggles to learn new things. Gulf struggles to help him. Phone sex. Then homophobes enter the chat. Type gets a bubble bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:
> 
> Mentions of homophobia, homophobic slurs, and foul language. 
> 
> MG phone sex
> 
> \-----
> 
> Sorry for the delay I don't know why this chapter was so hard to write. I reorganized the parts a few different times too. then I accidentally lost a scene and had to rewrite it. Anyway, sorry. Also, this is the last chapter Mew is gone, he will be back next chapter and sexy times will happen.
> 
> On a more side note, I was also worried about posting this because Type is severely behind in his studies which is actually a pretty common problem with children who have hopped around in the foster system. He is portrayed thinking and maybe even acting as younger than his actual age and that is because of his trauma. As an example with the dishes and being held by Gulf or even that Type chews/sucks on his fingers it's not usually a characteristic of children Type's age (8 in this series). So It's just something to keep in mind.
> 
> This chapter also ended up being like 11k because what is chapter length consistency, right?  
> 
> 
> I took a few lyrics from:  
> [Brittney Spears - Born to make you happy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yy5cKX4jBkQ)  
> [Ruelle - I get to love you](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m1mkYWkoXyo)

Kim, Dr. Eyes' secretary, sends them a smile when they walk in. "Hello again Type," She looks to Gulf, her smile shifting to something else. "and Mr. Gulf."

"Hello, we're here for Type's appointment." Kim glances at her screen before ushering them back into Dr. Eyes' room. 

"Type," Dr. Eye says, leaning against her desk. "Why don't you take a seat for me." She turns to Gulf whose still by the door. Type moves to the seat in front of her desk silently but he keeps glancing back to Gulf.

"I've been meaning to discuss something with you. If you don't mind after the appointment, having a quick chat with me?"

"Sure." Gulf nods before he makes his way back to the waiting room. Plopping down on one of the seats that huffed under his weight. The table in front of him had a few wooden toys and not too far away from that a small TV on silent playing a children's show with subtitles. Gulf sighs as he leans back in the chair pulling out his phone to stare at the picture of him and Mew on the lock screen. Mew was wrapped around his shoulders nuzzling his cheek both of them had blinding smiles. It was the day that they agree Mew could tell his fans he was dating someone but only if they got engaged. I was silly to get so happy over something like that because they hadn't actually told the fans but Mew was excited at the prospect of the future plans. And Gulf was excited because Mew was.

At first, Gulf had been joking about that stipulation but Mew had taken it completely seriously. Mew was ready to tell -scream- to the world his love but Gulf was worried about Mew's reputation and wanted to wait until he was better situated. Plus that was months ago and when he'd just taken on a few more artists to his label. It'd be a long time before they got engaged -if they ever did- so he wasn't worried about that now. (Mild still made fun of them for not living together.)

"Gulf," Gulf jumps in his seat looking up to Kim, she smiles down at him. She'd never approached him before but had always been pleasant. "I just wanted to tell you," She wipes her hands nervously at her sides, "That it's really impressive you, being a single father for Type and all."

Gulf glances around before giving her a curt nod. "I just got him so... I uh... I'm still working on it."

"Yeah. Troubled children are hard but it's commendable." She shuffles before awkwardly sitting next to him. "If you ever wanted to.. get coffee together, we could discuss it. I know some great places for children group activities for socializing too. There's a group session that I help Dr. Eye teach on the weekends that might be a good place for Type to make some friends."

"The group session does sound like a great idea but-" Gulf felt his phone buzz in his hands and he glances at it to see a message from Mew. He looks back to Kim. "I don't think that...- I mean we shouldn't."

Kim slouches tapping her knee for a moment. Gulf taps out his message for Mew sending a few stickers about missing him (because Mew had sent him a detailed paragraph about how much he miss Gulf, the sap, so it's only right if he rebuttals) before Kim's voice caught his attention again.

"We could just go out for coffee and not discuss.. kids. You know, relax?"

"I don't think we should..." Gulf taps his foot a few times debating the best way to go about this as politely as possible. Kim looks at him hopefully, a shy smile on her face. He locks his screen taking a moment before tapping it to light it up and showing her the picture. "I'm sorry but I don't think I can...You see I'm spoken for."

Kim flushes, gapping briefly before sputtering out a few awkward noises as she stands. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize - It's just on the charts... - you... um, I'm sorry."

Gulf watches as she rushes back behind her desk disappearing behind the computer screen. Gulf sighs again before turning his eyes to the silent TV. He tries not to think about the glances he still gets every so often as he waits. He can almost hear her apologetic gaze. Maybe he wasn't as delicate as he thought was. 

Gulf lost track of how much time he spends staring blankly at the screen, He had thought about pulling up a phone game but he didn't have to motivation after the awkward conversation, and Mew was busy so he couldn't exactly talk to him. So he stares off into space, or the tv until the words and pictures blurring together before Dr.Eye calls for him. He stands so quick that his vision darkens momentarily before he rushes to her office. She pulls him aside as soon as he steps close enough.

"How did it go?"

Dr. Eye smiles at him sadly and he knows the news isn't going to be good. "He's barely at a kindergarten reading level. I took a look at his file and he's two grades behind and the state was calling truancy but unfortunately because it was a low-income school it wasn't follow up on and he just... fell out of school this last year. So the rest of the subjects he's at least a year behind on as well."

Dr. Eye held out a manila folder to him. "Here are some worksheets to get you started along with a few tutor location if you want to get him started there. Also a list of online schools that let you work at your own pace. Whatever you feel Type would work best at. If he goes back to school now he would end up back in kindergarten though."

"He wouldn't really fit in there..." Gulf says softly, disbelievingly.

"It's going to be rough until he catches up that's for sure." Dr.Eye pats his shoulder, "He's a good kid but he's got a lot to work on. It will be tough for you as well if you decided to continue on. I want to make sure that you also have support. I know Mild is there but you need others. I might also recommend therapy as well."

"For me?"

"Yeah," Dr. Eyes tilts her head softly, it felt like a motherly gesture. "It's hard for parents as well and I want to make sure you both are taken care of. Type will be a handful because of his past but that affects you as well because you are his guardian. However long that may be."

Gulf fiddles with the manila folder in his hand, shifting on his feet. "However long that may be?"

"Not everyone can handle the pressure of raising someone with the past traumas like Type has and that's ok-"

"It's not ok." Gulf interrupts. "What if I don't keep him, where are you going to send him to, a psych ward?" Gulf's voice is stretched into a hoarse whisper. He'd hear Mild complain numerous times about how kids ended up in hospitals and psych wards regardless if they actually needed to be there because there was nowhere else for them.

Dr.Eye gave his shoulder a squeeze and much to Gulf's immense disappointment doesn't deny the possibility. "It's, unfortunately, the only system we have at the moment no matter how much we hate it."

Gulf took a step back, his knuckles cracked as he clinched them before he took a deep breath and relaxed. "Thank you for the paperwork and the advice."

"Gulf, I'm serious. Especially if you decide to keep him permanently. Think about therapy for yourself as well. Even if it's not now. You'll need to be able to handle the tantrums, fits, mood swings, and anything else that Type might throw at you throughout his recovery."

"Ok yeah," Gulf nods a bit jerkily, "I'll think about it."

"Good." Dr. Eye smiles, "I taught him a technique to calm down because he said earlier that he got what I think was a panic attack about the dishes, though he's not the most talkative-" Gulf nods and she smiles at the confirmation. "Yeah, so later ask him to show you that way he remembers."

"Ok."

"Good. If you need anything don't hesitate to call." Dr.Eye looks into his eyes with a stern serious look. "I mean it, anything. It will be understandably difficult. You're not the first parent to help a child through something like this and you, unfortunately, won't be the last. There is support for you if you need it."

"Yeah, ok, thank you," Gulf shuffles, feeling a bit weighted by the future implications. "I'll keep it in mind." 

Type was waiting by the door when they opened it, his large brown eyes wide. "Ready?" Gulf asks smiling down at him.

Type nods shuffling closer to him as they head out, seemingly quiet, though no more than usual so Gulf doesn't push him to talk. He didn't really feel like talking either. He missed Mew's idle prattle in moments like this when he doesn't want silence but his own words seem to fade away.

"You ready to play some football?" Gulf asks when they are almost back to the apartment.

"Dr. Eye says that I'm going back to school." Type says solemnly. Gulf wraps his hands around Type fingers, swaying them between them. 

"Do you not want to?" Type shakes his head Gulf probes a little further than he had the first time they talked about it. "Why not?"

Type shrugs, huffing as he steps closer when people pass them. "I don't like people."

Gulf hums, nudging Type into the elevator. He hits the button a few times when he sees three familiar faces down the hall. He didn't really want a confrontation today, not in front of Type. "Well, there are other types of schools we can try. But I would like for you to try going back to school. It won't be for a little bit though, so we have time to make sure you feel ready before then."

Type doesn't seem to like the idea. He pushes Gulf's shoes into a neat order next to his when they enter the apartment.

"Do you still want to play football? Or we can just settle down." 

Type little shoulders fell, looking dejected. "You'll be with me if I go to school?"

"I can't go to school with you but I can be with you every step of the way."

Type looks up at him, nodding before heading back to his room. Gulf follows to glance in and sees Type pulling out his soccer jersey. Gulf smiles as he goes to get his as well.

The park is mostly empty which means that they have the field to themselves. Gulf re-explains the rules of the game and Type seems to have remembered most of them. He goes over not touching the ball with his hands which he noticed before Type having the habit to grab the ball. Then he shows Type how to bounce it on his knee as well. Type is immediately excited to try something new but his coordination isn't that great. He manages a few bounces before he gets too excited and turns to Gulf to see if he's watching and loses the ball. Type laughs as he chases the ball and Gulf can't help but feel a lot lighter after this morning's discussions.

That feeling quickly leaves him as he chases after Type. The boy kicks the ball towards his goal, it bounces off the side and back towards Gulf who kicks it much softer towards his goal. The ball rolls easily into the net and Type shoves him from behind with an angry grunt. He stumbles a few steps.

"That's my ball." He shouts anger looks scrawled over his face.

"Type its ok -"

"Don't take the ball." Type shouts back. Shoving Gulf again. The pushes aren't hard but Gulf is more worried about the sudden anger. He watches Type kick the ball before sprinting after it. Gulf follows in a hustle as Type grabs the ball and throws it a the net only to have to hit the side and bounce off again narrowly missing Types head.

"Why won't it work." Type grabs the ball again hitting it with his fist.

"Type," Gulf says and Type snaps towards him looking furious.

"Type why are you upset buddy?" Type pushes at him again before kicking the ball towards Gulf, missing by only a little bit before running after it. Gulf follows staying a few paces back just in case. Type is running full force after the ball, he hits it but his foot stutters in the grass and he tumbles to the ground. Gulf sprints over only to have Type kick at him when he gets close enough.

"You're going to steal it." Type screams before scuttling back up after the ball. Gulf huffs and let's Type run after the ball by himself. The boy didn't seem in the mood to talk and maybe tiring himself out by running might put him in a better mood (or a worse one, but Gulf was hoping that wasn't the case).

"Hey, buddy?" Type ignored him to chase after the ball, tripping on his feet before tumbling to the ground again this time with an oomph. A few seconds later angry fists stretch out to hit the ball away from him, he lets out a loud angry cry, limbs flailing before he suddenly stops, falling limp on the ground. Gulf exhales. He walks over to Type, crouching beside him.

"Type." No answer. "Are you ok?" When Type still refuses to move Gulf sets his hand gently over Type's shoulder. The boy swings his arm back at Gulf. The movement causes Gulf to fall back onto the ground, landing on his butt. 

"Type." He says, voice a bit more stern. Type swings at him again. Gulf flops back to lay on the ground completely not sure what to do. He pulls out his phone and sends a quick message to Mild hoping that he could give him an answer.

Mild reply came back fairly quickly but wasn't as helpful as he wanted it to be. ' _wait it out and then talk to him_.' Gulf sends a sigh towards the sky as he hears Type groan in annoyance at the ground. He vaguely hears the words 'stupid ball' being muttered into the ground.

"You're still learning buddy."

"I don't want to." Type voice sounds louder and when Gulf looks over at him.

"Learning is hard but you'll get it." Type turns his head to face Gulf, even though he was glaring it was a start,

Type pulls at the grass, flicking the strands into the air. "This is stupid."

Gulf pushes off the ground to cup Types hand stopping him from destroying any more grass. "It'll get better the more you practice."

Type shakes his hand off before he rolls a few times to get away. He flops to a stop at the sky. "Doesn't matter, you'll be leaving soon anyway. Why bother?"

Gulf opens his mouth but shuts it when he can't find the words. He tries again but nothing. He settles back onto the ground looking up at the sky with Type. "I guess when so many people have hurt you before it seems fair to think that about me too."

Type stays silent but Gulf can see the tiny wobble of his lip out of the corner of his eye. Gulf hears a tiny intake of breath before Type's soft words. "I just meet you... but your the only one who has ever wanted me in a way that hasn't hurt."

Gulf sets his hand between them palm up. "I think it's what you deserve. I want to be there for you."

"Even when I'm bad?" Type's face tilts towards him, eyes wide and watery. "Even when I push you?"

"I don't like it when your bad or push me but I won't stop wanting you for those things. There are times when I want to push people too. When I want to hit them and hurt them. But I don't because I know its hurts. I don't want to hurt people and I don't want people to hurt me either."

"...It does hurt." Type agrees.

"I don't want to hurt anyone. Especially not you."

Type looks down at his hand before slowly wrapping his fingers around Gulfs in a tentative hold. "I'm not good at school. I don't want you to be mad at me for not being good like the other kids are."

Gulf squeezes his hand. "I'll help and we'll get to where they are, if not better."

"Better?" Type eyes sparkled. "Can I be better?"

"Of course." Gulf smiles help him to sit up, gently brushing off the grass from his back. "Just like you'll get better at football."

"You won't give up on me?"

"I promise." Type tiny pinky wraps around his.

"I'm sorry I pushed you and got mad."

Gulf smiles as he ruffles Type's hair. "Thank you for apologizing."

\----- 

Gulf was struggling. Or more like Type was struggling and Gulf didn't know how to help him. As it turns out, Type was really behind in his education. Massive learning curve. So much so that Gulf knew he'd have to set up a tutoring class because it wasn't something Gulf was equipped to handle at all. He had known it would be a challenge but he definitely underestimated just how much of a challenge it would be.

Type was currently face-first in his book wailing, feet kicking out under the table. The book was the easiest reading level that he could get but Type was struggling with the letters, he kept jumbling them up and refused to believe the 'k' was a real letter and refused to use it. Type had no problem with the letter when speaking but reading it just seemed impossible.

Gulf pinches the bridge of his nose before exhaling. He wiggles the soggy book out from under Type's nose before switching to a math worksheet.

Type's hiccups but stops kicking his feet so Gulf takes that as a good sigh. Then not two seconds after that Type grabs the papers and swipes them off the table, the pencil goes flying across the room. "I don't want to."

"Type just a little bit more and then we'll be done for the night."

"No." And then Type was scrambling out of his seat and running into his room, leaving a chair tipped over in his wake. Gulf pushed off his seat to follow, watching as tiny feet slipped under the bed. 

Looks like they were done for the night.

\------ 

Mild had mentioned that it's not uncommon for kids' anger and terrors to get worse during times of stress. He's seen it happens before with many of the kids he placed in long-term homes. After the short grace period where the kids are adjusting to the new homes, they start to adjust to the new life, and sometimes if the child is behind in certain life skills, the stress of trying to play catch up exacerbates their mental stress. There as more to it than that Mild had assured him but Gulf understood the general gist of it.

Dr. Eye had even corroborated that information when he'd asked about it one day after Type's therapy session. She said to make sure you do something relaxing afterward to help elevate the stress. He had tried to follow that logic but Type didn't want to do anything after each lesson, much less talk to Gulf. Type liked to hide under his bed and ignore everything until he fell asleep and Gulf gently pried him out and put him to bed. He had almost thought maybe it wouldn't be something they needed to worry about because Type nightmares were getting better. 

He had been wrong. They weren't.

Gulf had just barely closed his eyes when a scream ripped through the air. It curdled his blood with fear as he scrambled out of his room. 

“Type, Type it’s ok.” Gulf reaches for the swinging arms, feet kicking at the bed. His fingers brush the skin and Type screamed louder than before.

“Please no! Stop. It hurts! It hurts!” Tears pouring down his face, blurring his vision as his hands are tearing at his clothes and swing dangerously through the air. Gulf moves to stop him again, try and comfort him but this time when he touches Type the boy's eyes snap open and a fist connects with his arm and foot to his chest. “Leave me alone!” 

Gulf doesn’t feel the impact as he stumbles back, falling to the floor. His chest stinging as he sucks in a breath. Type is still writhing in the bed fighting the monsters in his head, even with his eyes open his mind still battling the pains of his past.

“Type you’re safe now.” He calls softly from the floor, scooting to lean against the edge of the bed, keeping a good distance between them just in case. “Type can you hear me, buddy?”

Type body slams against the wall as his eyes fly open wide, this time they seem to be present as they search the room. Still wild and a bit panicked, Gulf waits till Type's eyes land on him before tears blur their vision. Gulf watches Type wipe roughly at his face with the back of his hand, his chest panting rapidly trying to collect any air it could.

“Type.” He says softly, watching, and waiting. He didn’t know what else to do. He just had to wait until Type seemed receptive enough for his help. “Type breathe with me, buddy. I need you to breathe with me.”

Type’s chest convulses as he gasps futilely, arms finding the ball pillow.

“Remember what Dr. Eye showed you last week? Breathe with me.” Gulf takes a loud inhale, he holds it. Type hiccups a few times but then sucks in a breath. Gulf lets it out as Type lets out a stuttered one.

“You’re doing great Type. Can you do a few more with me?” He doesn’t get any answer but he wasn’t expecting one. He sucks in another breath, Type does the same this one sounding less panicked already. His body giving an exhausted twitch. They do a few more together until Type breaths sound smooth, still a little wet but the panic seems to have settled.

“You’re ok now.” Type's eyes meet his, blinking slowly as he chews on the knuckle of his thumb and pointer finger. “I’m here with you now.”

Type shrinks into himself, knees pulled in tight.

“I’ll protect you from now on.” Type exhales something big as his body gives a shiver before he relaxes his legs out. If Gulf wanted to he could reach the tiny ankle, maybe provide some comforting touch but he’s pretty sure touch right now is unwanted.

Gulf reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, he shifts through his messages to finds an audio clip. 

“When I had trouble sleeping Mew sings me to sleep.” Gulf looks to Type who’s staring back, still shaken from the nightmare but seems interested. “I tried to hum something last time but I think this would be better. Is it ok if play something for you?”

Type removes his knuckle from his mouth and nods, scooting a little bit away from the wall.

Gulf smiles as he plays the clip. It’s Mew playing the guitar softly, half humming half-singing a song. At the time he sent it, Mew was still working on the song but it’s long since been completed. But nothing compares to this audio. There's something about the raw and soft vocals, the emotion, the part halfway through when Mew misses a note and stops to laugh. There something about knowing the Mew was writing it for him and sent it to him because Mew knew it would help. Mew often leaves for days or weeks at a time for tours or out of town schedule or even in town schedule but it just makes more sense for him to stay at his own apartment because of proximity then Gulfs. Gulf doesn't struggle to sleep but he struggles missing Mew when the other is away for long periods of time and this has always brought him a sense of ... home and comfort. A sense of Mew. He has a few other raw tracks that Mew has sent but this one was the first he ever sent and his favorite.

Gulf lets the notes fill the air, the slightly breathy tone, and the scratchy guitar. Everything just seemed to wrap around you like a blanket protecting you in a way that only the warmth of a loved one can.

Type's hand flops on the bed when the audio ends. Motioning at the phone.

“Do you want to listen to it again?” A tiny nod. Gulf plays it again. Halfway through Type scoots closer. During the next play, a little bit closer again. Then he's close enough that when the audio ends he taps the phone to play it for a fourth or maybe it was the fifth time.

Gulf sets the phone in the bed and Type curls around it, eyes staring at Gulf. He hopes that Type's getting that same sense of home and comfort too.

“I will protect my love.” Gulf songs out with the line he gentle touches Type fingers with his own. They're sticky and damp from sweat, tears, and spit from Type chewing on them. But Type doesn’t pull away.

“The voice sounds like... warmth?” Types voice raises at the question. His finger rubbing back against Gulfs.

“Yeah, yeah it does. It’s warmth and strength, comfort, and feels like love to me. That’s why I like it.”

The audio plays again.

“Will I get that one day?” Type eyes bore into Gulfs pleading for an answer. Gulf wasn’t sure exactly what Type meant. Did he want that voice? Did he want to feel loved? Did he want Mew? Did he want audio files of lovesick songs from a lovesick boy? Or maybe the feeling that no matter how far apart they were a simple song could remind you that you're not alone?

“... Yes, I’m sure you will.” Because Gulf would help Type get whatever he wanted.

Type fingers grab Gulf's as he closes his eyes. Gulf plays it again and when it was over Type seemed to have fallen back asleep, hand still clutching Gulfs.

He slips the phone back in his pocket with his free hands and shifts to get comfortable leaning against the bed and closes his eyes.

This was going to be a very long learning curve if Type nightmares kept getting worse the more they tried to learn. He wasn't sure if he could handle Type's tantrums during the day as they go over letters and words then Type nightmares at night.

He hummed softly as he closed his eyes. He could really use Mew's comfort and support.

\------- 

The next few days go just the same. Screaming and crying over trying to learn new information. Violent night terrors. Mild keeps telling him to be patient and that it will get better but he's starting to think maybe he needs to take Dr. Eye up on the offer for therapy. He doesn't feel like he's doing anything good for Type since the boy seems to be getting worse. Or at least it feels that way from where Gulf is sitting as he listens to Type shout at him from under his bed about how much he hates the worksheets.

He's been a little desperate for Mew's attention the past couple of days too because Mew's been so busy they've only been able to shot each other a few texts throughout the day. (It's mostly good morning or good night texts.) He tries to make the best of it and pretends that he doesn't miss Mew as much as he does so Mew doesn't worry or stress about him. He knows if Mew could he would have been back already and him complaining amount the amount of time away seems childish. Even if maybe it's not.

It’s a while later after he puts Type to bed on night that he decides to call Mew, hoping that he catches him at a time when he's not too busy. Because he doesn't want to go to bed without at least hearing Mews voice even if it's only for a second. He sure Mew won't mind a short break. Though he's hoping the Mew will be able to talk for a little while. Mew doesn’t pick up the first time he calls and he tries not to dwell on the immediate feeling of disappointment as he waits a few minutes and tries to call again. Mew answers immediately this time.

"Of course I have time for you. I'm in the hotel room on a short break anyway." Then Mew switches them to video chat, “Baby.” He coos over the screen, “Handsome as ever. I miss you.”

“It hasn't been that long,” But it had been. It had been over a month. 

“Just admit you miss me too and we can move on to the real conversation.”

“Who says I missed you?” Gulf teases and Mew sulks. Muttering off to the side like a child. Gulf can't help but laugh. “Ok, I miss you too. happy?”

“Don’t sound so forced will ya?”

“Mew Suppasit, love of my life, light in the dark, whisper in the wind. With every last beat of my heart, I miss you.”

Mew blinks, eye wide as he blinks, in a very Type like fashion. Then he wipes a fake tear from his eyes, fanning himself a little as if moved by the words. “Be still my beating heart, your words, so sweet.”

“Thanks, I took them from your health cereal box this morning.”

Mew sticks his tongue out in a very adult manner before hmmphing. His nose scrunching up in a way that makes Gulf want to squeeze his cheeks, maybe nip that cute little sniffer. He really did miss Mew. Way more than he's willing to admit over the phone.

“Tell me about your day and when you’ll be back” Gulf quickly asks to distract himself.

Mew falls right into the conversation, going straight into a rant about how no one is working at the pace they should be. (They were but Mew wanted them to get done early so he could go home.) About how he wanted to be done already. "We should have been done like a week ago," He grumbles, "But then this new composure contacted the company. I decided to check them out since we're already here. It's great that we'll be able to work with them on a handful of songs but it pushed back the return date by like two weeks. Which is why I'm not back yet." 

"I'm sure it will be well worth it."

"it's definitely worth it, doesn't mean I can't whine about it keeping me away from you."

Gulf rolls his eyes but it's lovingly before answering back in an empathetic voice. "You'll be back before you know it."

Mew smiles at him longingly before switching to brag on his new album and how much he knows Gulf will like it. It's a given though. Gulf likes everything Mew does. He can't help it. He's definitely biased.

"How is Type?" Mew asks curiously after they'd sat in a few moments of comfortable silence. Gulf has been pretty vague about how Type is doing so far. Mentioning only the big details through messages.

"We starting on worksheets a little while ago to get him caught up for school..." 

Mew seems to catch meaning in his paused silence, frowning. "It's not going well?"

Gulf takes a deep breath, he really doesn't want to worry Mew but he also doesn't want to keep it from Mew. He shrugs and nods, "It's been tough. Plus he's having trouble sleeping and I'm... having trouble sleeping too."

Mew makes a noise caught in his throat then coos softly. "My sweet baby. What can I do for you? How can I help."

Gulf feels a little bit of guilt crawling up at his thoughts, he's never asked for more from Mew, especially not when he's away for work. He's always been courteous of Mew's job but right now, he could really use Mew. Dr. Eye had been right about how he needed a support system. It wasn't something he thought that he would have a problem with but Type's tantrums and the nightmares and .. Gulf feels useless as he watches Type struggle with the worksheets not knowing how to help him more.

"When will you be back?" Gulf asks trying not to sound as needy as he feels. Mew's eyes soften and for a second Gulf wants to retract his words but he doesn't instead just wishes he could be in Mew's arms at that moment.

"Soon. So soon I promise." Gulf buries his face into the pillow and breathes in a few times before turning back to the phone. Mew's concerned face staring back at him.

"Take my mind off it for a little bit..." He requests. Mew gives him a disapproving look at the change in subjects.

"Tue ang you can't just ignore your feelings -"

"Please Mew, I'm ..." Gulf lets out a groan, pulling his shirt over his head to flop back onto the pillows, eyes pleading. "You've been gone for a couple of weeks now and I just..." He lets out another groan that rumbles through his throat as he can't quite express his feels to Mew through the phone. He struggles to express his feelings normally when Mew is here, pulling him closer and whispering encouraging words. How was he supposed to do it over the phone? He couldn't. But Mew could still help him with something.

Mew sighs, removing his shirt and leaning back against the headboard of his bed before something shifts in his eyes. He bites his lips before looking at Gulf under his lashes.

“I miss you,” Mew says deep and sultry. It's something almost instinctual at this point for his body to react to that tone. His stomach tightens in anticipation and he can feel the blood shifting to fill a certain part of his body. He cups his dick through his sweat pants, palming it softly. “Do you miss me, baby?”

"Yes." He sighs out, his mind clearing out leaving only thoughts of Mew. Mew's deep velvety voice and those veiny hands with their vice grip around his dick. Mews lips touching his heated skin. 

"Good boy." Mew hums and Gulf looks back towards him through the phone. Mew lifts his camera higher and Gulf can see the bulk of his chest and biceps, the hands just out of view shifting in a way that tells Gulf Mew is touching himself. Gulf slips his hand under his pants, shivering as his cool hands make contact with his heat skin, he can't help but give out a tiny moan at the sensation. Mew's eyes glaze over as he smirks. “Are you touching yourself, baby?”

Gulf jerks a little bit as his hand tightens around his dick. He often teases Mew about his daddy kink but Gulf very much so loved it Mew called him baby. Especially when it was in that deep rumbly tone. Even more so as he's searching for his high.

"Yes," He gasps finally and Mew smirks grows.

"Are you hard and needy for me yet?" Gulf nods roughly, "Is it leaking yet? You know the way it does when I tongue fuck you?"

He wasn't moments before but Gulf is definitely imagined Mew between his legs now. He reaches over to the nightstand and grabs the lube squirting it straight onto his dick before throwing the bottle somewhere. He gives his dick a few strokes before he lets his fingers goop up the lube, probing his hole in tiny movements. The way Mew does as he slowly pries him open with the wet muscle.

"Are you working yourself open with your fingers baby?" Gulf blinks open his eyes and whines, his middle fingers sliding in. "Do it nice and slow for me. You know how sensitive you get when I take it slow."

"You like to tease me." Gulf smiles and pushes a second finger in. Regretting the phone in his other hand as his dick lays neglected against his stomach. 

Mew chuckles, "You like to be teased. You like it when I open you with my tongue, my hands on your thighs, or your ass. You make such sweet sounds when I bite your rim." Mew nips the air before licking his lips seductively.

Gulf drags his fingers to run over his slick hole, his blunt nail catching the rim before he slides back in. Mew seems to catch his body jerk at the movement and the hitch in his breath with a knowing smirk.

"After I open you up with my tongue, what do you want next baby? I could suck you dry, have you cum down my throat with your hands in my hair."

Gulf feels a bubble of pre-cum roll out of the tip of his cock as he rubs it against his forearm, his fingers searching for that spot inside him. "Not that."

"No?" Mew musses and Gulf see his hand come back into view on the screen, it crawls up his chest to pinch his nipples. "How about I play with your nipples. I can bite down on them, suck on them till they're bright red and hard like sweet candy."

Gulf drags his fingers out of himself and up his own chest to mimic Mew's fingers, pinching his nipples with lube slick fingers. It wasn't the same as when Mew did it for him. "I've never been much for nipple play."

Mew smirks because that statement isn't fully correct. Gulf enjoys it from Mew but only a little. He mostly just enjoys Mew's mouth on him. Mew coos softly and Gulf watches his hand move up to his own neck rubbing it out as he stretches. "I could hold you down" Gulf watches Mew's fingers tense around his neck before piercing eyes lock with his. He lifts his hand and does the same. "Use you as I please. You wouldn't be able to move or get away."

Gulf twitches his hips as his hand cups his neck.

"You're always such a good boy for me. Touch yourself again." Gulf hands quickly move back to his dick, stroking it with a new fervor. "You like when I hold you down and pound into."

"Yes." Gulf twists his wrist as he strokes.

"I do too." Mew's arm jerks out off-screen and he hates the limitations of the screen. 

"I love making you come from nothing but my dick."

Gulf moans jamming his thumb over the slit, "You always take care of me."

He had meant it to be sexy but it came out as more comforting. Mew smiles softly. "And I always will."

"I'm so close." Gulf whines needily.

“Fuck baby." Mew tips his head back briefly, breathing through his nose before looking back at Gulf. "You make the best sounds for me baby." Gulf bites his lip at the compliment. 

"You know my favorite sound." Gulf shakes his head. "The sound you make right as you bottom out on my hard dick." Mew's eyes roll in his head as he groans thinking of the sound. "So soft and airy. Like you need nothing more in the world than my cock."

"Sounds a little conceded."

"You love my cock."

"I love you." Gulf shots back and Mew's eyes drip with adoration at the admission.

"That noise is just one of the things that tell me how special I am to you. Tells me how good I make you feel."

Gulf can feel the tightening in his stomach, his hand working feverishly at his dick. Mew's hand was much slower but the grip was tighter, flexing his muscles with each movement.

"Do I make you feel good?" Mew asks and Gulf nods stiffly, letting out a whimper as he watches Mews biceps flex through the phone screen. "Good. I only want to make you feel good. That's the most important thing to me."

Gulf groans before his breath hitches, his voice wobbles as he talks. "Stop getting sappy."

"It's just the truth," Mew groans and Gulf drops the phone to his chest as he stuffs his fingers back inside himself, frantically probing for that spot inside him. "I was born to make you happy." He hears the muffled words against his chest.

"Don't quote Brittany spears when I'm about to cum" Gulf groans out and he hears a loud breathy laugh that does more to fuel his arousal than annoy him.

"Always and forever you and me," Mew's voice was low and rumbly as he sang. "That's the way our life should be."

"Mew" He whined loudly both in annoyance for the continuation of the song and because he found that squish spot inside him that shots tingles through his veins.

“Are you close baby?” Mew's voice is still rumbling but Gulf can hear the panting breathes.

Gulf nods, then realized Mew can’t see his face. “So close, please.”

“You beg so pretty baby. Only for me. Beg for me, baby,” Gulf stares up into the black ceiling, his eyes blur and he almost moves to pick up the phone just to see Mew.

Gulf's hips twitch into his hand, the tip of his dick red and angry, ready to cum as he lets out a tiny whimper. “I’m so close, Mew please,” He moans through the words, “Please let me cum, please.” He keens out the word. He presses his face into Mew's pillow, the phone slides and lands on the bed face up. Gulf can see the vague silhouette of Mew's arm and chest. "Please, I'm so close Daddy."

Mew possession rumbles in his chest, “Good boy.”

Gulf stares at the blurry image, hips thrust into his fist. He can hear Mew's breathing get ragged and the hitch that it gets when he's close. "Please."

Mew groans, "Fuck baby, ok cum for me."

A few strokes later cum is splattering over his torso. Gulf keeps stroking till he hears Mew whisper moan his name. Then he lets his arms flop by his side as he watches Mew through the awkward angle on the screen. He doesn't move just watches Mew as he cleans himself before grabbing the camera again. Mew's eyes searching for him through the screen. He lazily reaches out for tissue and wipes his chest off before turning to hold the camera at his face again. Mews smiles softly at him, looking mellow and happy. Gulf feels better too, not as stressed but he still misses Mew. Overall he's feeling good and that's a plus.

He tugs Mew's pillow to his chest, burying his nose in it. It smells heavily of Mew (and just a bit like his sweat from the activity moments ago).

“You ok my love?” Gulf blinks open his eyes still hiding the rest of his face so Mew can't see the pout. 

“Just ... “ He shrugs. He doesn’t want to complain anymore about how long Mew’s been gone because it hasn't been that long. He doesn't want to complain about Type because he doesn't want Mew to stress any about this especially when he's not here. So he settles for the usual. "Just tired now..."

Mews cheek squishes as he lays on his pillow, eyes sparkling as he coos softly. "Want me to sing you to sleep?"

Gulf nods letting out a shaky breath that he hopes Mew doesn't catch before the soft melodic words float through the air.

"I can't believe it's true ...I get to love you..." 

"Sap," Gulf says softly and Mew sends him an air kiss. He lets Mew sing another line of their song before he begins to softly sing along. "It's the best thing that I'll ever do."

\--------

The next few days seem to go a little bit better, Type actually gets through a full worksheet without a breakdown and he read his 'k's though he still says he doesn't like them. Understandable. 

Gulf decides the valiant effort deserves a break takes him back out to the field by the apartment. A few of his friends had said they were going to be there later and would join up with them to play a quick match later too. Type seemed happy at the prospect of getting to play a semi-real match now that he was actually understanding all the rules of the game.

They had just made it to the field when Gulf heard the sneers from a few yards away. 

“Look who it is.” The homophobic jackasses from his complex. He'd been pretty good about avoiding them the past month or so since Type arrived but it looked like his luck had run out. He hoped that ignoring them would make them leave but he knew from experience that it only made things worse. They lived for confrontation. 

Type seemed to sense something was wrong and tugged on Gulf's shirt. Gulf handed him the ball and nudged him further onto the field and away from the men.

“Looks like the faggot found a spawn,” Gulf growls as he covered Type's ears at the words. He doesn't acknowledge them though, hoping that maybe they'd get bored and leave. It's a fleeting hope.

“You ignoring us fagot?” A different voice yelled. He glanced over his shoulder at the three men standing on the sidelines. 

“Where’d you steal the boy from?” The third commented with a sneer. "He can't possibly be your own spawn."

“Stop calling him spawn. He’s a human being you asshole.” Gulf feels the ball hit their feet before Type's hands tug at his shirt. He tightened his hands over Type's ears. He really doesn't want Type to hear these men’s words. He nudges Type further away towards the other side of the soccer field.

“Faggots like you don’t deserve kids.” Gulf could hear footsteps coming closer and the voice gets louder. “He’s going to catch what you have.”

“Being gay isn’t contagious,” Gulf growls but picks up his pace. Type feet stumble next to his but the boy doesn't comment just looks wide eyes between Gulf and the ground in front of them as they move.

“We all know what you do to him behind closed doors.” Gulf bristles at the accusation. How dare the fucker. He lets go of Type, stomping over to the guy in the grey shirt, the one who seems to be the leader because he won't shut his mouth, and grabs him by the collar.

“Don’t you ever fuck dare say that I mistreat him? He’s been through way too much already." Gulf pulls on the collar as the guy sneers back at him. "Don't project your fantasies on other you sick bastard."

The ring leader of the group, grey shirt, bristles pushing Gulf's shoulders sneering. “Faggots like you can’t control themselves around young boys.” 

Gulf sees red, his fist tightened at his sides, and before he gets a chance to throw hands at the assholes in front of him Type flys past him. It takes a long moment to process the movement as the guy in the grey shirt crumply before him cupping his crotch. The other two, red shirt and black shirt next to him look shocked as well.

“Stop saying those things to Gulf.” Type yells moving to kick the black shirt in the knee cap. “He’s the nicest person I’ve met" Type's tiny fist came down at the red shirted guy's stomach. "and you’re not allowed to say those things to him you you you -dick.” The last word is accompanied by another swing at the red shirt's stomach but this one is captured by the guy's hand. 

Gulf feels the immediate rise of fear inside him like a tidal wave. These guys are way bigger than he is and stronger. He can't fight them. He definitely can't fight them and protect Type who thinks that his tiny fists are doing anything to help. Which they're not.

The grey shirt stands straight looking at Gulf furiously before he swings. Gulf doesn't have time to step away before he feels the punch connect. He stumbles back a few steps and sees the red shirt swinging Type to the side by his hand. Type stumbles before he yells, charging at the guy again. 

Gulf rushes into action, returning the punch to the grey shirt which much less force than he wanted. The guy grunts but doesn't back down. He swings again, watching Type swinging at the red shirt guy as the black shirt and the grey shirt guy circle around him. He hears the slurs and derogatory words being spewed at him as a punch connects with his stomach but his eyes are focus on Type. Gulf blocks a hit and he hears Type yelling again he looks over to see him being lifted into the air by his arm and chucked to the side. Gulf swings wildly now at the men in front of him trying to break free and get to Type. 

He feels the hits, one to his side and he kicks out. Watching Type spring back up. He yells at him to stop, to leave, but the words don't make it out as he's knocked to the ground and the red-shirted guy turns towards Type and swings.

He can still hear the nasty words but it fades as he hears the whimper from Type a few feet away from him. The redshirt guy grabs Type by the throat, the boy freezes whimpering loudly as he claws at the hand. 

Gulf feels strength surge through him, something like that superhero adrenaline strength that parents get when their kids are in danger. He pushes off the ground, swinging, kicking, and fights his way through the men. He knocks one over and they fall with a thud before he swings catching another in the nose, blood pouring from his nose. He grabs the redshirt guy's arm and twists, his hands' release Type but Gulf doesn't let go. He keeps twisting. He hears a pop and the guy makes a pained sound in his throat before he uses his other hand to punch out at Gulf.

A whistle blares near them and they freeze. Gulf lets go of the guy's arm and scramble over to Type. He hears the yelling of police as they run over to them. 

The boy's lip is bleeding and he's crying and panicky and scared. Gulf can see the demons of his fears creep into Types. The flashback of his past as he sobs. Gulf tries to keep his touch gentle but Type is fighting him, tears, snot, and blood staining his shirt.

"Type, type" He hushes and Type's eyes fly open. "It's ok."

"Gulf." And Type latches onto his neck

There's a soft tap on his shoulder and he looks up to see an office staring down at him.

Type doesn't let go as he stands up so he hoists the boy up into his arms. His body protesting but he ignores it as the officer gives him a sympathetic look.

"I'll make it quick so you guys can go get checked up. Or do you want an ambulance?"

Gulf shakes his head. "I'll take him." Gulf can hear sucking noise and feels the tightening around his neck that tells him Type is sucking on his fingers again. The sobs are calming at least.

"What's your name and his name," the officer motions to Type.

"Gulf," He nods to Type in his arms, "This is Type."

"He seems pretty shaken up."

Gulf tightened his hold around Type. "Yeah, well wouldn't you be if three men attacked you?"

The officer winces before asking, "Want to tell me what happened?" 

Gulf looks over his shoulder to see a few more officers talking to the other three guys. The officer follows his line of vision. "Bystanders called and said three guys were attacking a dad and son."

"Yeah." Gulf situates Type to rub softly at his back. "They live in my apartment building and have never really been fond of me because..."

"Because?"

"I'm gay." Gulf Looks back to the other police then back to the one in front of him, the name badge 'Office San'. "They don't like it."

Office San hums, writing something on his notepad. Type shifts to look at the office from around Gulf's neck. "They called him names," he says muffled by his fingers.

"Names?"

"Mean ones." Gulf feels the damp fingers touch his neck as Type removes them from his mouth. "Said Gulf doesn't deserve me because he's... contagious. A faggot."

Gulf feels a shamed blush crawl over his cheeks as he looks to the ground. He shouldn't feel a sense of shame at the words but he does. He didn't protect Type enough to save him from experiencing those words. The office writes something else in his notepad.

"I just took Type in and they were talking bad about him." Gulf tries to sound assertive. "I wanted them to stop but then things escalated."

"Just took him in...ok. And who threw the first punch?"

Gulf tries to think back, it was Type who had. "I did."

The officer hums and nods and writes something down before asking a few more questions. "I'm going to go discuss with my fellow officer and I'll be right back here to finish up."

Gulf nods. His arms are straining and his body is aching from the hits but he doesn't set Type down. He does reach up and thumb at the boys' lips to see if their bleeding still. They are but it's not much anymore. He tugs up Type shirt to wipe at the lip, Type pushes the hand away to put his hand back in his mouth.

"Alright Gulf." Officer San stands in front of them again. "I'm going to take you to the hospital to get you checked upon."

"Oh, I can-"

"I insist." Gulf just nods and follows the officer.

Type doesn't want to let go of him so the officer lets Type sit in his lap in the back seat, turning to smile at them, telling them he'll pretend not to see it. They're halfway to the hospital when officer San speaks again.

"I know this might sound weird but you mentioned having just taken Type in and I have this friend who is basically the surrogate parents for his siblings. They go to this therapy session with other children who's lost someone or been in foster care." Officer San glances back at him when they stop at a light. "He's having a party next week with some of the kids from the session and if you're looking for some friends for Type who... you know have a similar background. You could join."

Gulf's first instinct is to deny the invitation but then he thinks back to Dr. Eyes words about support. Type won't be joining school for a little while and Gulf wants him to make friends. It might actually be a good idea. Plus maybe he could meet some others who might have kids struggling and get some pointers from them. Plus Officer San was well an officer and that had to make the place somewhat safe, right? or was it a trap. No, it wasn't a trap, this wasn't some b rated movie with a kidnapping plot. 

"Yeah, actually that sounds nice." They pulled into the hospital and Officer San pulls out his notebook and scribbles on it.

"This is the date, time, and address. Also my personal number. There should be about five or six other kids, just as a heads up. Thorn will probably get way more food and drinks than necessary so come hungry."

Gulf smiles pocketing the paper, "Thank you." 

"I'll be in touch about the incident today too." He hands Gulf another slip of paper and Gulf knows it's about the incident so he stuffs it into his pocket without looking at it.

"Of course Officer." Gulf shuffles out of the car and gives a wave before heading inside.

He messages Mild as they're waiting in the waiting room, explaining the situation. Mild immediately flips out through messages, calling him on repeat until he picks up and tells him he'll call back later.

The visit goes relatively quickly. The doctor said it was just a busted lip and the bruise was already forming around Type's jaw so the doctor gave him an ice pack as he checked over Gulf.

"You've got a bruised rib." Gulf grunts at the probing, it definitely felt bruised. He too was supporting a quickly forming bruise on his face but Gulf was over his cheekbone. The doctor probed it gently. "Nothing seems broken here either. You'll just have bruising for a bit."

Gulf thanks him and gets a copy of the report for Mild to submit to the state.

Mild calls him again as he's on the bus back to his apartment, Type sitting in his lap sucking on his fingers still while holding the ice pack with the other. Thankfully the bus was fairly empty. Mild mother hens him over the phone.

"I'm coming over to check on you-"

"Don't" Gulf says calmly. Type was already drifting between awake and asleep and Gulf could use a nap as well. "We're going to go home to get cleaned up and sleeping for a bit."

"But you got attacked." Mild groans into the phone in annoyance. "And you expect me not to check up on you?"

"Do it tomorrow."

"What about later today?" Mild tried again pleadingly. "I'll bring dinner."

Gulf leans his cheek on Type's head. He doesn't really want to interact anymore today. He's feeling that needy feeling build up inside him again but Mews still not back and he won't be able to go home and crawl into Mew's arms. "Fine."

"Yes yes yes." He hears Mild cheer over the line. "I'll be over around seven."

Gulf hums back at him as he sees his stop nearing. He bids his goodbye and hangs up. 

When they finally make it back to his apartment complex he can't help but glance around. The three men are, thankfully, nowhere to be seen. Maybe he should call Officer San and see what happened to them. Tomorrow, maybe.

“Why don’t you get washed up?” Gulf asks as soon as he closes the door to his apartment. "You can take a bubble bath if you want?”

Gulf thought about the new bubbles bath soap he picked up recently and the bath bombs that he had gotten originally for Mew (the old man needed a good soak every couple of days or he would complain about his muscles. 

"I go to the Gym for you," Mew liked to complain as he pulled Gulf into a bath, sitting in front of him and handing Gulf a washcloth. "I'm so tired from working out can you wash my back."

And Gulf would, making sure to take it slow and give Mew a nice massage as he did. The older male always melted under the suds until he curled into Gulf's chest and look up at him with big child-like eyes. 

"Scratch my head."

And Gulf fingers would tangle in Mew's hair and scratch lightly until either Mew fell asleep or the water turned cold.)

He thought that Type could use some lavender and camomile infused bath bomb tonight. It was supposed to be calming and relieve stress right? Type had too much stress, he needed some calming oils in his bath. Plus it'll help with any pain he might have.

“Bubble bath?”

“Yeah, have you had one before?” Gulf arms squeeze around Type as he tugs off the boy's shoes. Type doesn’t make any move to help, he was just kind of lays limp against Gulf as he thinks.

“We have a basin out back in the home before Mr. and Mrs. Dree and when it rained it would fill up. They let us wash up in that but it was cold. I don’t think I want a bubble bath.”

Gulf huffs out of exertion as he drops Type shoes by the door, standing back straight. He definitely needs a nap after all this exercising he's getting. Maybe he needs to work out more too in the future. “This one will be nothing like that. This one will be warm and bubble-y.”

Type doesn't answer but his shoulders give a tiny lift.

“How about I get it ready but if you decide you don’t want it, I’ll drain it and you can take a shower?”

Gulf didn’t wait for an answer as he heads to the bathroom. He works one-handed getting the tub ready, Type watches behind his neck. Type asks for the bath bomb when Gulf unearths it from under the cabinet, looking it over and sniffing it before he deems it safe for himself. Gulf lets him throw it in the tube and he giggles at the plop then sizzling sound it makes. He finally sets Type down when the tub is ready. Type seems pleased with the warm mist in the room from the bath and the bubbly vat before him.

As he was about to leave the boy alone he feels a tug on his arm. 

“Gulf?” Type opens and closes his fist a few times around Gulf's wrist, his fingers tapping for a moment before he looks up determination written in his face. “Can you wash my hair for me?”

“Of course.” Gulf preens at the request. At the level of trust, Type is showing with him. He can’t help it, he leans down and pulls the boy into a quick hug. Type grumbles but doesn’t push him away. “Just call my name whenever you want me to come back and help.”

Gulf leaves the room feeling proud. Like he and Type had grown closer through today's unfortunate events. Type trusts him and wants him to help. It seems silly to be so proud that Type asks for his help washing up but all he can think about is how happy Mew is when he helps him and he wants the same happiness from Type. He bets Type likes head messages, he's gotten really good at giving them because of Mew.

He sent a quick text to Mew bragging about Type wanting him to help. Also teasing Mew about his bath bombs again.

'My magical bath bombs nuuuu' Mew sends back almost immediately then a mountain of hearts and proud stickers telling him he is about how proud of their progress he is. 

They text back and forth until Type calls his name. He stuffs the phone in his pocket as he enters the room slowly and Type is covered in bubbles up to his neck, a few floating on his check. Gulf pads over to kneel in front of the tub. He lifts up some bubbles and boops them on Types nose. The boy lets out a tiny giggle. Gulf wants to capture this moment in a bubble to rewatch forever.

Wash time goes smoothly, the bubbles keep Type mostly concealed, something Type seems to like as he continues to push the bubbles closer to his body. Gulf makes sure to take a little bit longer time scratching his scalp because Type seems to relax into the water like ice cream melting on a hot sidewalk at the attention.

“No one's done this before,” Type sighs a bit dreamily into the bubbles, “I like it.”

“My partner likes it too, I've gotten so much practice on him that I’m like a pro at head scratches now.” Gulf runs his fingers a few times through the wet locks, Type's head tilts into his hand. “If you ever need any just tell me, I give head scratches out for free.” Gulf chuckles lightly, smiling at the pleasantly sleepy boy looking at him.

“Thank you.”

“What for?” Gulf cups some water with his hands to pour it over Types head.

“Being nice to me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that. You deserve it silly.” Gulf wipes suds of Type cheek and ear to distract himself.

“That’s why I like it.” 

He leaves the room as Type dries off. He grabs some fresh clothes from the boy's room when he notices something sticking up between the bed and the wall. It's a small hoard of food. Gummy packets, pretzels, a slice of bread. He tugs the slice of bread out only because it'll start to go bad out in the open like that but leaves the rest. He's definitely going to have to talk with Type and Dr. Eye about the food hoarding but for now, it's not important.

Gulf hops into the shower when Type is done. His muscles scream at first, the pain he'd been ignoring coming in at full blast. It's a struggle to finish the shower, his body demanding rest. When he makes it to his room afterward he finds Type asleep on his bed. He sighs thinking about putting Type back in his own bed but he can't even fathom the energy he'll need to do that so instead crawls into the bed next to him. He tugs the covers over them and sets an alarm for a little bit before Mild is going show up. 

He knows that he'll have to find a way to explain this all to Mew as well. Mew will be furious. He knows Mild will be mad as well when he tells him everything. Gulf looks over type sleeping face, the purple and red over his jaw and bottom lip the inadequacy-laden feeling filling up inside him. Mad that he didn't protect Type like he promised he would.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments or criticism welcome :)
> 
> Hopefully, I won't take as long on the next update.
> 
> Chat with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kanasprout) if you want


	6. The meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Type meets Mew

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello lovely and wonderful readers,
> 
> I want to first apologize for the delay on this chapter. I wrote it but didn't like it so I tried to rewrite it and got mad that it wasn't right again so I set it aside worked on some other fics. Then I moved countries and started a completely new job which was chaotic at best. It was a stressful month and I didn't really have the motivation to write or rather I had motivation but nothing was coming out the way I wanted it to. Finally seemed to get my writing mojo back at least enough to feel ok putting this chapter out, though I'm still not super happy with it. I wanted more to happen in it because I feel like it's a bit boring but I also want to get something out so, this. 
> 
> Again I'm sorry for the long wait. 
> 
> I have another like prequel story that I had originally planned to put out at the same time as this chapter but it's not done, it's like 25% done so that'll be out when I get it done. It's not super important or anything though. It just sort of correlates to something things mentioned in this chapter.
> 
> I think there will be one more chapter for this and then I have two parts that should be after this story. There is an age jump between them so they will be separate stories. In case anyone is wondering the directions or whatnot of the story.
> 
> This chapter does include MewGulf sexy time as well.

The buzzing that he had tried to valiantly ignore has gotten persistent enough that he was annoyed now. No longer able to ignore it, Gulf slams his hand down on the offending object with a growl, his eyes blinking open to silence the alarm. His phone screen fills up with messages. He groans flipping the phone face down when he doesn’t see any from Mew. The others could wait till he was more awake.

He shifts, his rib screaming at him for the position. He spent most of the nap trying to find a comfortable position for his rib. He's settled for a position that was a little hard to breathe in but the pain was minimal.

“Why don’t you answer your phone?” Gulf turns to look at Type. Big curious eyes stare back, the cut in his lip looks crusted over which he supposes is good. But his jaw still doesn't look any better, though what was he expecting after an hour nap. Honestly for it too fully healed but that was an impossibility. He lets out a sigh, finding the ice pack on the bed, room temperature now.

“It’s not important.”

“It buzzed ... for a long time without stopping.”

Gulf pushes to sit up, reaching out slowly to ruffle Types fluffy locks. It was weird for someone else to be on that side of the bed, it’s Mew's side but Mew often rolled to Gulf's side for snuggles so it was more empty than not. He supposed it wouldn’t smell like Mew anymore either with how long the older male had been gone.

“Alright, let's sees what they want then.” Gulf grabs his phone skimming through the messages. He had completely forgotten that he was going to meet up with his friends for a game. Bright had yelled at him in all caps threatening to come over if he didn’t answer. 

He checks the time, which was half an hour ago. He groans but doesn't get a chance to answer back before there's a loud banging on his door. He hears Bright's voice yelling from the other side. Even across the apartment, he could hear his voice, the door was doing little to muffle the sound. 

He rolls out of bed, careful of his rib, his arms were still a little sore from holding Type for so long. His knuckles felt tight and glancing down at them, the skin was all red swollen still. He wasn't really cut out for the fighting life it seemed. Probably for the best, he wasn't too fond of it either.

“Oh, so you are alive.” Bright drawls out irritably as he opens the door. His brows furrowed as he grabs Gulf's jaw. It’s a bit painful but he lets Bright look him over. “The fuck happened to you?”

“Watch your language,” Gulf mutters, Bright's hand still squishing his cheek.

“Language?” Then his eyes drop down to Type who’s peaking out from behind Gulf. He turns to Gulf again, letting go of his face only to pull him closer by his shoulder and whisper shouts not so subtle at him, “When did you get a kid?”

“I told you." Gulf shrugs him off, shaking his head, "In the text message.”

“No you said, and I quote, “ Bright digs out his phone tapping a few times before reading Gulf message. “ _Wanna play ball today, I’m teaching Type_.” He raises a brow, “I thought it was some new friend, I brought beer.” Bright raises the plastic bag in his hand.

“Not sure we should be drinking around the kid.” Mild says from behind Bright in what Gulf can only assume is the universe saying perfect timing.

“Hello Mild.” Gulf gives a limp wave, he can feel Types hands fisting his shirt nervously.

“Hi Gulf and Bright.” Boat waves happily from next to Mild, hands full of plastic bags of food. Right on cue, it seems there was a tiny rumbling sound, Gulf looks down as Types face goes all pink. Gulf coos as he ruffles his hair.

"Let's eat"

"Right, I'll need a full stomach to deal with this." Mild says pushing past them. He gives Type a pat on the shoulder as he passes.

It doesn’t take long for them to get situated at the table, Type next to Gulf shyly poking at his food as he watches everyone. Type had scooted his chair very close to Gulfs, so close that Gulf could feel his feet wiggling under the table every so often.

“So you gonna tell me what happened to your face and who we need to beat up?” Bright said between mouth fulls of food. 

Gulf grimaces as a few pieces of rice flew onto the table. Normally he wouldn't mind it because he and Bright were similar (He could vividly remember a time a few months ago they were arguing over a football match mouth full of food, food flying everywhere to the point that Mild and Mew had to cover their mouths so that everyone else could eat in peace) but since he's taken in Type he's felt very... particular about things. He wanted Type to be in a clean safe environment. Not that Bright talking with his mouth full was... dirty it's just... He didn't know. He was just feeling some type of way and he had no idea how to even begin to process or explain it. Maybe it was a parent thing, wanting your kids to be in the best environment possible at all times, like a protection thing. Yeah, something like that. That's what he was calling it, justly overprotective of the environment. He looks down at Type, nudging him softly to eat something. 

Mild send him a look as well, waiting. They're all waiting. Well just Bright and Mild, Boat seems fine either way and Type seems content to stare his food out of existence even though Gulf knows he's hungry. 

“You know the guys from the first floor, they've never been too fond of me or... you know and -,” Gulf says slowly waving his hands about himself as if to say 'being gay' in a flourish of nonverbal words before shoving a giant spoon full of food in his mouth in hopes it would dissuade any other questions. It didn't, it just made him feel and look like a squirrel. “It was a misunderstanding,” he says when they continued to stare.

“I don’t usually end up with a black eye when I misunderstand someone.” Boat says plainly. Gulf sends him a tiny glare, he was supposed to be the chill on not the one to throw him under the bus like that.

“What did Mew say when you told him?” Mild asks. 

Fuck.

“He didn’t,” Gulf says quickly stuffing his mouth full again after his comment. He looks over to Type and notices the boy still hasn’t taken a bite yet but there was food on his spoon. Progress? 

“He didn’t?” Bright says in disbelief, “You’ve been with this dude for how long and he didn’t have anything to say about this?” That's valid, Mew's never been one to _not_ say something. His mouth is as open as his emotion were. That is to say - easy to read for anyone within a twenty-block radius of him regardless if they want to or not. Mew had his emotions stapled to his sleeve, his forehead and on a good day, he threw it at people like some sort of game of unintentional catch.

“No, what he means is he didn’t tell Mew.” Mild sasses. “Did you Gulf?”

“It’s not important to tell him now-“

“Are you sure about that?” Mild asks. In a way that made Gulf rethink his entire life. He had a reason for not telling Mew. There hadn't been time, he needed to get Type checked out, he needed.. a nap yeah. Those things were very important in the grand scheme of time and they totally prevent him from telling me. 

But he knew that if he said any of those things it would be wrong. They were valid enough reasons but they weren't the real reason. 

“Wasn’t he the one that almost blew a casket when that one co-worker of yours started stalking you?” Boat asks nonchalantly. Gulf tries not to think about the time before when they'd almost broken up and it wasn't just over the stalker guy. It had been a rough month for their relationship.

“Yeah but that’s because he found my address and was waiting for me in the lobby every day, it was.. you know dangerous?” Gulf's sentence had started off strong but ended in a very weak tone. He'd only told Mild about the other half of that, about Mew's ex meddling around. Gulf looks over to Mild who is staring at him with a contemplative look.

“He also punched the dude at the bar that one time that grabbed your ass,” Bright says casually, waving his spoon around. 

Mild always seems to know what Gulf is thinking. Next to Mew, Mild knows him the best. Of course, he would know. “You're not worried. You just don’t want him angry on your behalf.”

“There’s nothing that he can do about it anyway. And there was this picture that got released yesterday of his Lock Screen and people are speculating about who he’s dating. So like..." Gulf pushes his food around on his plate, he looks over to see Type doing the same thing. "... he’s busy.”

Mild sighs seemingly tired of this particular conversation. “He’s popular enough that if you guys come out there won’t be negative feedback. Why aren’t you just open about it?”

Gulf stutters out some words, honestly, he doesn't have an answer for that question. Though maybe he does. He doesn't know. "We can't just- like be- he's a-"

“No, wait-” Bright waves a hand in the middle of the table to get their attention. “Don’t change the subject, we haven't finished talking about who hit you? And do I need to gather the gang for a fight?”

“No, no fighting.” Gulf is thankful for the shift in subjects though he doesn't really want to talk about this anymore either. He looks over to Type and notices some food is missing which is good, finally, he seems to be eating at least. “It was just _those_ guys from my building and the last I saw them they were talking to the cops so I think it’s being settled.”

"Those guys." Bright points down referring to their location on the first floor. Gulf nods. It's no the first time he's talked about them or their normally mildly harassing ways.

"Make sure it does get settles," Bright says and doesn't seem pleased at all by the information, "Get a restraining order too if you need to."

Gulf waves it off casually. "Yeah, I will."

Mild catches his attention again by waving a chicken wing in his face, “Gulf, why don’t you want to tell Mew?” 

“It’s not important, “ He says casually with a shrug.

Mild grunts indignantly before pushing out of his seat. He grabs Gulf's arm and tugs him out of his seat, down the hallway, and into Gulf's' room. It's painful but only because Mild's jerking is irritating his bruised rib.

“What’s going on? Did you ask Mew have a fight or something?” Mild crosses his arms over his chest. The door is closed behind them and Mild is looking anger, sad and disappointed all at once. 

“No, why would you think that?” Gulf rubs absently at his side, Mild's eyes soften.

“Because I can’t understand why you would _not_ tell him about something like this-"

“I told you it’s not-"

“But it is.” Mild exclaims, hands falling to his asides. “It is important. You and Type were in a brawl. Your eye is half swollen shut and your cheek is purple. Do you think he won't notice?" Mild runs an exasperated hand through his hair and Gulf feels it. "It is important if it affects you.”

"It's just...."

"Do you think we wouldn't care? Do you think that he would get mad? Fuck Gulf, I've known you for how long now and you only told me because of Type."

"It's just not important "

"You have no problem joking about those guys calling slurs at you when were drinking at a bar but now when it's serious when they actually do something that we've all feared they would do. You think it's not important." Mild yells a bit wildly. Like he's trying to go to a full-on yell but his voice is tipping into hysterics.

"Yes."

"Damn it Gulf." Mild sighs, and Gulf wonders if this is how people see Mild when he's fighting for children. Maybe how he would have looked the night he got Type, exhausted, tired, and yet every bit ready to defend him if needed. He's not tired of the person, just the situation. Tired that once again the world did what it does and hurt someone. This time it was Gulf and though it wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, it was just one more thing that Mild hated the world for and Gulf understood. He understood perfectly that feeling even more now that he has Type.

"It wasn't even that bad."

"I've seen many of those 'not that bad' events in my time but that doesn't make it alright. You also can't use that as justification for not telling Mew - the person you supposedly love."

"He's busy and already has too much to worry about."

"Gulf whatever made you think that no matter how busy he was he would somehow not care about your wellbeing?"

Silence fall over the room and Gulf glares off to the side. Mild keeps opening his mouth, chest heaving like he wants to yell at Gulf but he doesn't. He doesn't say anything. 

“So tell me the real reason you don’t want to tell Mew because everyone knows that man will do just about anything to protect you-“

“I don’t need him to protect me.” Gulf snaps then shrinks into himself at Mild's open look. 

“Gulf?”

Gulf gulps, he might as well get it off his chest since Mild wasn’t backing down. “I don’t need his protection. I can protect myself. And Type.”

“I know that.” Mild says but it sounds like a question.

“I don’t need Mew to always protect me because if he does it’ll just be proof that I can’t. And I have to be able to. I have to be able to at least protect Type because I can’t seem to do anything else." Gulf doesn't mean to yell but he does. He can't help the prickles of tears in the corners of his eyes. It's been almost two months now since he got Type, two months since he's seen Mew in person. Two months since he's felt like he's done anything right for Type and he hates how he's feeling. Something he didn't even fully realize until today. 

"He hasn’t gained any weight and he has a check-up soon. What are they going to say? He has nightmares regularly. Violent ones on days we try to actually do work to get him ready to go back to school. He hoards food by his bed. He chews on his fingers to calm down. He punches when he's mad. Somedays - most days, I have to convince him- convince him that I'm here to help and not hurt him.”

“If I can’t do any of that, If I can't at least protect him from - from stupid thick-headed homophobe’s. Then what? I have to be able to that on my own because I can’t do anything else.” Gulf wipes at his eyes then hisses as he presses too hard on his cheek.

“Gulf” Mild says softly, stepping closer he reaches out to Gulf who turns away. Mild tries again but Gulf moves away again. 

"Gulf." Mild says again this time wrapping his arms around him and pulling him tight.

They stand there in silence for a few moments maybe a minute or two before Mild pulls away, ruffling Gulf hair. In a soft comforting voice, “You're doing just fine.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“It’ll take him some time to gain the weight back. He went through a lot and there's no overnight fix, this will take time. Maybe even years before he starts to be a healthy weight again, who knows. But it's not for your lacking. Nightmares are to be expected, it’s not ideal but it’s expected."

Gulf nods. Mild rubs down his arms a few times. Gulf takes a deep breath before letting it out.

"But, if it's any consolation, he’s already looking healthier. I know it might be hard to see it because you see him every day but I noticed it.” Mild gives him a motherly smile, something tender. It does make him feel better.

“What if they want to take him away because at his doctor's appointment they see I’m not doing good enough.”

Mild laughs before knocking his head gently. “They won’t. I promise. Progress is progress. Every step is important, they know that."

"What about the fight? I let Type get hurt."

"You protected him the best you could. Don't worry. I'll be there to help you out."

Mild pulls away and walks to the door. Gulf stops him, "Do you still think you made the right decision leaving him with me?"

Mild doesn't look back, he just opens the door, "I wonder if Type will show me his football skills, I heard someone was teaching him."

Gulf still feels heavy as he sits back at the table. Bright and Boat seemed to have gotten Type to eat most of the food on his plate and Gulf almost feels guilty for leaving him alone for so long. At least Type ate, some nights he only wanted gummies or pretzels. Seeing him eat meat and rice -and even a few vegetables- was a nice change. 

"Gulf," Type pats his arms excitedly, well excitedly for Type who is still a little bit stoic at times. "Bright showed me a video of someone kicking the ball-" Types hands twirling like he's mimicking a ball twisting. "and he's going to show me."

"A rainbow kick," Bright says proudly.

"That might be too advanced for him." Bright waves off the comment.

"You sure you're ok with the whole situation that happened today?" Boat asks.

"Yeah I mean, the best I can be." Gulf shrugs. 

"Let me know if you need any help." Boat smiles at think from across the table. Maybe he is the chill on after all.

"I'll be waiting to hear about the restraining order you got for them too." Bright adds.

* * *

He doesn't tell Mew when they talk later that evening and he avoids the video chat offer though he really would like the see Mew's face. Mew whines about it and for a second he almost caves but he's not ready to tell Mew yet. Mew talks about the 'scandal' and how the media digs too deep when they shouldn't. 

"The picture is blurry at best so no one really knows it's you but they keep digging. No one's really mentioned you yet but I think that's because the only picture online of us is the one from the event where we meet." Mew sounds exhausted but pleased that no one was guessing Gulf.

"No one would guess me even if we had hundreds of pictures online." Gulf jokes. His heart sticks a little bit at his own words though. 

Mew clicks his tongue. "Not true, all the pictures we have together recently there's love pouring from my eyes at your beauty everyone would definitely know that I'm deeply infatuated and in love with you just by looking at our pictures." 

Gulf flushes at the words. "So dramatic." Mew laughs and Gulf wishes they were in video chat so he could see his smile.

His mom shows up around lunchtime the next day with bags of food. She doesn't comment on his face but she does say she talked to Mild recently and it tells him everything he needs. She gives him a good look over with eyes that feel a bit like judgment but it's a mother's judgment so he almost wants to cave and cry on his mother's shoulder and get pats on the head to reassure him. He doesn't he just smiles back.

"I always told you this place wasn't in the best neighborhood. It might look nice but the people.." She shakes her head as she sets the food on the table. Containers spilling out to cover most of the surface. 

"It's a nice place and the price was good." He had always liked the independence of his own place no matter how much he loved his parents. It was nice being on his own. Plus it really wasn't far from his parents' house. It was close enough to his office to when he needed it. And the price had been really good. He'd wanted a two-bedroom and the price on this place wasn't something he could pass over, regardless of his mother's questions about the 'people' who lived in the area. He really hadn't seen anything wrong until those guys showed up but even then it was still a great place. At least for now. He imagines himself moving in with Mew sooner or later, hopefully, sooner but he's not rushing it.

She sniffs at the comment before looking around. "Where's Type, I've been waiting for you to invite me to meet him but since you've waited so long I decided to just come to visit him myself."

"I was going to call you soon, It's not like I was avoiding you. I just had work and I was taking care of Type."

"Excuses." She shakes her head before patting his cheek. "I know it wasn't on purpose. But my impatience did get the better of me."

Gulf chuckles as he looks around. He frowns when he doesn't see Type on the couch, he checks under the table. He grows a little concerned until he opens the boy's door to his room and there Type was, sitting on his bed, pillow to his chest, and the worksheets they'd been working on in his hand. Strange Type had never once touched the paper out of his own devices, it was only when prompted by Gulf first.

"Hey buddy what are you doing?"

Type shakes the paper but doesn't look up at him. "Practicing."

"That's great." Slowly he moves to sit next to Type. "But we can do that later, do you want something to eat?"

"There's a lady here." Type states.

"Yeah, I want you to meet her, she's my mom." Gulf gently takes the worksheet from his hands. Type grabs his hand, eye still looking where the worksheet was.

"Why..." He asks in a tiny shaky voice. "Why would I meet her?"

Gulf is taken aback by the question. "Because I want you to. She's important to me. She's family and .. you're important to me now too."

"Important to you is meeting your family?"

"Yeah," How does he explain the cultural norm and importance and meeting someone's family for the first time. He wasn't sure he could right now, he wasn't even sure Type truly understood the word family, much less how it felt to be in one. It was something of importance when you had a loving family, something that can't easily be explained. Only experienced. "Yes because once you meet my family, you become family."

"Family." Type says slowly, debating the word. He nods as if deciding it was worth it to check it out and hops off the bed, he holds out his hand to Gulf. 

Gulf smiles as he takes it walking back out to his mother who's fidgeting over the food. She stops and smiles when she sees Type. Type tightens his hand in Gulfs before waving.

"Hi." His mother gives a small wave back from across the table. "I'm Gulf's mom, It's very nice to meet you finally."

"Gulfs mom." Type chirps. "Gulf is doing a very good job at taking care of me. He feeds me and washes my clothes. He lets me take a bubble bath too sometimes too. And- And - And he lets me eat fruit gummies but not for dinner."

Gulf feels a mix of laughter and tears that he tries to cover with a sniffle. Type seems very pleased with himself as he looks up to Gulf. His mother giggles behind her hand.

"I didn't lie, was I supposed to?" Type asks when gives his hand a squeeze. Gulf shakes his head. 

It must feel like a house visit from social workers for Type. Mild has told him about how some families will ask their kids to lie to keep them. Never for good reasons though. He wonders the lies Type has told for the families he stayed with. 

"No, you did great Type," Type smiles all tiny and cute like he's proud of himself. 

"Fruit gummies," His mother chides, "Is Mew still on the gummy kick?"

"They say all-natural on the package," Gulf says in a voice that echoes the same conversation he's had with Mew dozens of times before. His mother just laughs.

"Do you like fruit gummies and bubble baths?" Type nods distractedly at the question, his eyes searching over the dishes on the table now. "What kind of food do you like?"

"Hmm. Meat? I like crispy pork and Gulf lets us eat it often too."

Gulf flushes as his mother laughs. "Training the boy to like your favorite, very clever. I bet Mew will hate having to say no to both of you."

"He can barely say no to me, add in these cute eyes." Gulf ruffles Type's hair and the boy looks up at them, eyes all wide and curious. "He's never going to be able to say no again."

"When did I raise such a naughty boy?" His mother teases. Gulf preens. His mother searches through the dishes until she finds the one she wants. She shakes the container proudly.

"Good thing I made some crispy pork for you guys. Let me just get it ready and we can eat it for lunch."

Type helps Gulf put the rest of the containers in the fridge as his mother gets the food ready for lunch. Type even gets out utensils and plates before he waits patiently near his mother for the food. Not close enough to get in the way but close enough to watch. It's endearing and his mother coos every few minutes when she chances a look at Type.

They eat relatively quietly, Type more picking at his food than eating but he seems happy overall. Whenever Gulf is focused on talking to his mother he notices the larger chunks of the food missing. It seems that Type is just more comfortable eating when no one is looking. Though he thinks it might just be conditioning from his previous environment. 

Type answered questions, sometimes verbally sometimes with motions, a shrug, or a nod, but didn't initiate any conversations. But he was nice and he seemed content as he talks to Gulf's mother. It was a relief that not only could Type manage to talk to someone casually but also got along with his mother. It was very heartwarming. Type even managed a few tooth smiles and a laugh. Gulf heart almost couldn't contain the joy.

Later that evening when his mother is getting ready she crotches down to Type's level. "Type, it was very nice to meet you."

"You are very nice." She laughs. Type gives a shy smile back.

"Would it be too much to ask for a hug?" She opens her arms for him. 

Type blinks at her then looks up to Gulf. He lets out a tiny exhale. "I.."

"It's ok if you don't want to." His mother quickly rectifies noticing his discomfort. "We can high five or nothing, you can just wave to. That's ok."

"It was nice meeting you." Type says waving awkwardly, looking more nervous than he had all day.

His mother stands up, keeping a smile on her face as she waves back. "Let me know what food your want and I can make them for you for next time ok?"

"Crispy pork?"

"Yeah, that too." She laughs, "Or I can make some new stuff to see what you like?"

"I think that's a good idea," Gulf interjects, patting Type's back gently. "We might find something you like better than crispy pork."

"What if I don't?" Type asks.

"Then you'll be just like me" He jokes. "I like crispy pork the best as well."

* * *

Gulf jerks at the sounds of the door. He freezes as the door handles wiggles before turning as the door swings open. For about one terrifying second Gulf fears that it's those stupid guys from the first floor back for revenge and had somehow found his apartment number. His body tenses as he gets ready to grab Type and run. 

"Mew." He breathes out as the older man steps in, dragging his suitcase behind him. "Mew," He says again but with more excitement, as he throws (with enough self-preservation to not break it) his laptop onto the coffee table before sprinting over to Mew.

Mew grabs him in a hug, raising him off the floor enough to wiggle him around in the air as they hug and the only reason he doesn't cry out in pain from his rib is the sheer thought of having Mew in his arms again. 

"Your back." He wheezes half from excitement and half the pain getting too much. Mew sets him back down and pulls away enough to look over his face. Face shifting from happiness to concern. Gulf forgets about his bruised cheek for a moment until Mew probes the area.

"What happened?" Mew's face fills with worry and concern. Dang it, he really hadn't thought this part through. Mew hadn't said he would be coming home this soon and he was hoping he would be all healed up by the time he did.

He pulls his arms from Mew's neck to rub at his side. "Just a misunderstanding."

Mew pokes at his cheek and he tries not to wince. It's only been a few days since he got it and though it's not tender it still hurts. Mew's brows furrow as he breathes through his nose, eyes searching over Gulf's face for a long minute before his hand's touch Gulf's side. This time he can't stop the wince as Mew pats his rib. 

"A misunderstanding?" Mew asks coldly. His eyes move to look behind Gulf to where he assumes Type is still sitting on the couch. He looks back and Type is staring at them. His lip still healing and parted in shock at the new arrival. Gulf looks back to Mew who's looking at him expectantly.

"We got into a minor scuffle." He says and Mew steps away completely from him to look him over.

"Minor scuffle," Mew repeats in disbelief. "When?"

"Recently," Gulf says with a tiny chuckle. He's trying for casual and unaffected but Mew stares back at him unamused. "Three days ago."

"Three days ago?" Mew says running a hand over his face. The room feels heavy as Mew turns away from him. He gulps, then once more when he can feel his breath pick up and not from his rib this time.

"Why didn't you-" Gulf says then stops for a moment when Mew turns to look at him with a stoic expression. He continues a little bit softer. ".. tell me you were coming back today?"

"I wanted to surprise you." Mew answers blankly, motioning limply to the bag of food perched precariously on the top of his suitcase, and the single sunflower hanging out of his shoulder bag that had been dropped to the floor.

Mew doesn't say anything as he moves the food to the counter. He sets the flower next to it. He grabs his shoulder bag from the floor, looking like he was ready to leave. "I think... I'm going to head back to my condo for the night."

"What?" Gulf reaches out to grab at the strap of his bag. "Why? You just got here."

Mew steps back until he's out of reach, hand running over his face again. "Because I'm tired and I'm going to say something that neither of us wants to hear."

"Because I didn't tell you we got into a fight?" Gulf asks solemnly.

"Yes." Mew snaps, "Because you didn't. tell me."

"But we're fine and it's not that big of a deal." Gulf feels like he's had this conversation before. He had, just a few days ago with Mild but now it seems harder to have. He feels more guilt than before.

"Not the big of a deal," Mew says exasperated scuffing as he shakes his head. "Who did you get into a fight with?"

"You know... no-one important..." Gulf wets his lips nervously and gulps again.

"Was it someone I know?" Mew stares at him and he looks away ashamed. "Was it... the guys from the first floor?"

He gives a tiny half-shrug pointed looking at his feet. Mew throws his hand up as he curses softly.

"Those assholes." He looks at Type from over Gufls shoulder "Sorry."

"It's fine the police took care of it."

"The police." Mew wheezes and Gulf is afraid that Mew might explode if he keeps holding it in the way he is. Mew's hands are curling and uncurling at his side, shoulders stiff. "Gulf you didn't think that a fight involving people who've been harassing you for the past six months because you're gay was worth telling me about? Not even when it ended with the police intervening."

"I was going to tell."

"When?" Mew snaps again, his voice loud and angry. Gulf feels a ringing in his ears. 

"After you got back and I was healed." Gulf gave him a reassuring smile.

Mew runs a hand through his hair but this time it stops, fisting the strands before he growls. "Ridiculous. This is ridiculous. Do you even care about me at all? Do you care about this relationship? What could possibly make you think that it was ok to not tell me about this? Would you rather I just stayed gone so you didn't have to worry about telling me at all?"

Gulf's mouth falls open. Mew heaves a few breathes as he stares. Gulf can feel him holding back. Then Mew turns away grabbing his suitcase. There are many things in Gulf life that he worries about. But it had been a long time since he thought about Mew leaving him because of one of his mistakes. He hadn't thought about that since their last major fight almost a year ago. A year ago seems like such a short amount of time for the sheer amount of adoration and love he has for the other male. And yet in this very moment, it seemed like not nearly enough time had passed since his last mistake.

He grabs at Mew's hands only to be shaken off as Mew reaches for the door. Gulf panics as steps in front of him blocking the door. "Don't leave yet."

Mew closes his eyes and pushes Gulf to the side. Gulf stumbles but slaps Mew's hands from the door.

"Get out of the way," Mew growls.

"You can't leave being mad at me." Gulf cries. "Please don't leave yet."

"You can't even answer a single one of my questions and you want me to stay?"

"I'm sorry. Listen." Gulf takes Mew's hand and waits a moment to make sure Mew isn't going to push him away again. "You were so busy with work and I didn't want to be a bother. I can handle myself. I can protect myself and Type. You don't have to worry."

"I do worry." Mew's lips tighten, "But now I'm furious. Gulf this is serious. You were attacked and you don't think it's important enough to tell me, I'm your boyfriend. You're supposed to trust me. You're supposed to know that I can handle work and you. We're supposed to rely on each other right," He sounds a little desperate before he looks away agitated and defeated. "You're supposed to -" Mew takes a deep breath, "You supposed to trust me. Us. This."

"I do trust you."

"Not enough to tell me?" Gulf can see tears bunching up in the corners of Mew's eyes. It's more than just sadness, he can still see the anger there, the misunderstanding that he thinks Gulf doesn't trust him. He does. Gulf trusts him. But that doesn't mean he's ready for Mew to prioritize him over his work. Gulf could never be the reason that Mew losses even one moment of what he's worked so hard for.

"That's not it at all." Gulf plays with Mew's fingers. "I don't want... to get in the way of your work."

Mew takes a deep breath through his nose. "Is my work more important than you are?"

Gulf nods, "It's your dream."

"Gulf," Mew sighs leaning in until their foreheads are touching. "You telling me you got hurt won't hinder my work in any way-"

"You're telling me that you wouldn't have dropped what you were doing to come back to check on me the moment I told you?"

Mew's shoulders slacked, he couldn't really deny that he wouldn't have. "No, I can't say that I wouldn't have. I might have."

"You should stay, we can really talk about it later. We should eat and you can get to know Type." Gulf offers as Mew pulls away.

Mew looks back to the couch where Type is watching the tv, football pillow pulled to his chest. "I don't know if this is the right time to meet him."

"But I don't want you to leave," Gulf said honestly.

Mew sighs, "Let me... go wash my face of something first. I'm still mad and I don't want anything else to ruin his impression of me. It hasn't really been the best meeting."

"You meet him when he first got here."

"That doesn't count since it was only for a few minutes." Mew grabs his bag and takes it back to Gulf's room.

Gulf sits down next to Type. The boy turns to him, "Did you fight?"

"A little bit," Gulf says before smiling, "But it's ok now. Sometimes we fight but we always love each other. I'm sorry if it scared you."

"It was a quiet fight so it didn't scare me. I'm used to it."

Guilt. That's all Gulf seems to be feeling today. "I'm sorry."

Type looks up at him a bit confused. "Why?"

"For fighting in front of you, it wasn't fair. And it wasn't nice."

"Fighting means you care." Type says in a way that makes him sound wiser than his age. 

"Not necessarily but I guess you got the sentiment right. But fighting doesn't always mean you care."

"But you guys did it softly, and that means you care because it wasn't angry. No hitting or anything."

"Hitting isn't nice and you shouldn't even if your mad."

"You have to use your words." Type says.

Gulf couldn't help but pull Type into a hug. Type lets him too, he's a little stiff but he falls into it. "Such a smart boy."

Type leans in more at the words. Gulf still feels guilty for fighting in front of Type, he shouldn't have but it brings him some joy that does seem understanding. He thinks that moments like this are the reason he can't wait to see Type grow up and develop into himself. 

"I promise we won't fight in front of you anymore," Gulf says as he pulls away from the hug. "I want you to feel safe with me. At all times."

"I do." Type reaches up slowly, before pressing on Gulf's nose with his pointer finger. "Thank you for apologizing."

Gulf could cry at that moment as Type smiles at him. Type was doing what he usually did, booping his nose all soft and gentle. Maybe Type was getting better. Something that Gulf had been worrying about every day but watching Type imitate something he'd done as a form of comfort. Mild had been right, Type was getting better he's just too close to see it. But he sees it now.

Gulf laughs and pulls him back into a hug, he says jokingly "You're a real cute kid, I think I'll keep you."

"I want you to." Type answers seriously and he just hugs tighter.

"I guess it's decided then." Gulf pulls away again. "We can discuss logistics of the stay later but for now," Type gives him a confused look but follows as he gets off the couch. "food."

Type helps him put out plates and utensils. He insists, giving Gulf a scowl when Gulf said he didn't need to. Type gets cups of water for them as well. Gulf watches him closely as he gets the food ready. Mew walks back out as Gulf is helping Type plate up his food.

"Hey," Mew says in a tentative voice. He crotches on the ground next to Type's chair. "I'm sorry about earlier."

Type tilts his head but doesn't answer.

"My name is Mew It's nice to meet you." Type stares at him then turns back to Gulf. Mew moves to his seat across from Type when it seemed like the boy didn't want to interact. "You and Gulf like the same foods"

Type doesn't answer but he squints down at the food in thought.

"I heard you like football too." Mew tries again and Type stares.

Gulf isn't sure what to say and Mew seems at a loss as well. Then Type speaks. "Don't be mad at Gulf."

"I'm not mad. We just had a misunderstanding." Mew says a bit startled by the statement.

"Gulf says that the guys who called us names was a misunderstanding." Gulf can hear Types feet kicking out and hitting the legs of the chair. "You're not going to do that too."

"What?" Mew's eyes widen and Gulf feels a bit shocked at the words as well. "No, never. That's very different."

"So it's not a misunderstanding?"

"No it is but ..." Mew trails off because he really didn't know the situation, he looks at Gulf for an answer.

"You're not allowed to be mad at Gulf." Type says with such a serious face hands fisting around the utensils that he hits against the table a little too aggressively for Gulf liking. "You're not allowed to be mean to him either."

Mew shrinks in his seat. It's so weird to see Type so demanding and stern. Gulf leans over to Type. "Hey buddy, it's ok. Mew isn't mean. We were talking before remember. Don't worry."

"But he said you don't trust him and if you don't then I shouldn't" 

The logic was there, it made sense. But it was wrong. This was bad because Gulf didn't want Type to not like Mew because of this. This would be horrible if Type would never trust Mew. It was just a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding because of him. 

"Type, no I do trust him, Mew just got worried because I didn't tell him about what happened a few days ago with those men. I trust Mew."

Type stares at Gulf contemplatively for a moment before looking to Mew. Then he turns to his plate and takes a tiny bite of food.

Mew stays silent and Gulf knows he's sulking. But Gulf can't blame him for it either. Type just basically said he didn't trust him.

Gulf tries to convince Type a few more times the Mew is not a bad person but Type doesn't remove the glare from his face. 

The rest of the night goes similar, Mew trying to be pleasant towards Type but Type ignoring him for the most part.

They were working on a worksheet later that evening and Mew asked if he wanted a snack and Type chucked his pencil across the room a Mew. It was startling and Gulf had never thought he had good reflexes until his hand shot out to catch the flying pencil.

"Type," Gulf says exasperated. "You don't throw pencils, that's dangerous."

Type slams his hands down on the table. "I don't want it."

"Want what?" Gulf asks easing Types hands off the table and out of a fist.

Type jerks his hand away to point at Mew. Gulf looks back at Mew and mouths a sorry. Mew shakes his head before walking out of the room. "Type you can't throw pencils at people, that's dangerous. Do you understand? That could have hurt him."

"Fine."

Gulf sighs.

The rest of the night was quiet, Mew stayed in Gulf's room doing work on his computer. Gulf had checked on him a few times but Mew didn't really acknowledge him. It was stifling. 

It really wasn't a good start for their relationship.

“Type why don’t you like Mew?” Gulf asks as he’s tucking Type into bed later that night. The sound of the waves from the sound machine seemed to help calm him.

Type doesn’t answer just rolls to face away, hugging his football pillow, tugging the blankets over his head.

Gulf gently pries the blankets down to see the boy's face, “Just because I have Mew doesn’t mean I won’t be here for you.” It seemed like a good place to start to make sure Type felt secure.

Type doesn't move for a second before slowly turning to look at Gulf, pinky held out. "You promise."

“Of course." Gulf wiggles their pinkies together. "Now, why don't you like Mew?”

Type just squeezes his eyes shut as he turns away again. Gulf sighs when Type doesn't seem to want to continue the conversation anymore, running his fingers through Type's hair before leaving the boy to sleep.

Mew was sitting on the edge of the bed, damp hair dripping over his shoulders, towel around his waist. He looks lost as he looks up at Gulf, who grabs a spare towel before standing in front of him. They’re silent as Gulf rubs the towel over his head.

"What's the real reason you didn't tell me." 

Gulf stills his hands, Mew doesn't move from under the towel, "I didn't want you to worry."

Mew stays silent but Gulf can feel the annoyance in his posture. "I can protect myself, you know." Gulf continues.

"I know you can."

"That scandal came out the other day about your lock screen and I knew you were busying finishing up the album for your new group and you had a few concerts that I knew you were finalizing. I knew you were busy is what I mean and I don't..." Gulf trails off, he shifts his hands to message at Mew's scalp over the towel. "I don't want to put myself before your work, ever."

Mew tugs the towel back enough to look up at him through the fringe. "We've talked about this, we're a team and you telling me about your problems won't ' _get in my way_ ' Gulf, I love you and I know you're more than capable of protecting yourself but let me help you. I've been begging you to report those guys and now look what they did."

"I don't want you to worry about me when you already have so much to worry about."

Mew cupped his jaw, "Gulf you will always be my top priority and there is nothing in the world I would rather worry about more than you. Me putting you first isn't going to take away anything. Me loving you isn't going to get in the way of the company. I promise."

"But what if-"

"Nothing you do will take away how important you are to me. I love my company, my music, and my dream but you're just as important as any of those. Please don't ever count yourself short."

Gulf can feel his lip wobble as Mew pulls him into his lap.

"I'm glad you're ok but please don't keep something like this from me again."

"Ok." Gulf nods and Mew kisses his cheek again. "I do trust you."

"Do you love me?"

"Of course I do." Gulf tangles his fingers in the damp hair of the nape of his neck pulling Mew in to drop a quick peck to his lips.

"At least you do. Type seems to hate me." Mew says with a pout.

"It's not that bad," Gulf says kissing those pouty lips.

“Maybe I should sleep at my place and ease my way into Type life. Maybe this is too quick.”

Gulf tugs at his earlobe grumpily. “But I missed you.” He says softly with a hint of need before Mew's face melts into sheer endearment. 

“I missed you too baby," Mew says softly, fingers slipping under his shirt as he gives Gulf a sincere yet quick kiss. "But I don’t want to make Type uncomfortable either.” 

Gulf cupped the back of his head pulling their faces closer together. “We’ll figure it out tomorrow.” He tries to reason with Mew. “It’s too late for you to go tonight.”

“It’s only 9.”

“Way too late.” Gulf whispers, brushing their lips together. “And I don’t think I can handle another night without you holding me.” Gulf's hands slide down Mew's arms, squeezing up his biceps before moving over the collarbone and down to that strong chest. “Kissing me,” he brushes their lips ever so lightly. Mew lips purse to follow Gulfs. “Fucking me.”

Mew groans at the deep slow hip roll. “Baby,” Mew growls flipping Gulf to press him into the mattress. Their lips meet in a needy kiss. One that feels like a month of absence and desperation. The towel is flung somewhere to the side followed by Gulf's shirt and pants. Then his boxers land not too far from that. 

Gulf's hands are pulling at Mew, groaning for more, and just as Mew reaches for the drawer to grab supplies for their upcoming activities, there’s a knock at the door.

“I didn’t lock it.” Gulf gasps out in a panic and stretches off the bed to grab his nearby boxers. Mew grabs the sweat pants next to them and slipped them to them just as Type was opening the door.

“Hey, buddy, what’s up?” Gulf tries to sound casual as he slips under the covers behind Mew to try and hide his erection that was thankfully fading very quickly.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Type mutters to the football pillow, pointedly glaring at his feet.

Type's never asked to sleep with him before. He's only really made it into the room once before. Gulf wasn't sure he should let him. He honestly didn't want to but he also couldn't find it in himself to say no because tell Type no because he wanted sex seems callous at best.

"Sure, buddy. But just for tonight." Gulf says from over Mew's shoulder. Type gives him a long look before shuffling over to the bed. He crawls up and Gulf feels Mew grab his hand and pull it towards his crotch. He struggles for a second before he feels Type feet kick out. Oh. He grabs Types ankle before it could hit Mew. Type freezes to look at him.

"Type." He says disapprovingly and Type tries to kick again but Gulf tightens his grip.

"I don't want to sleep next to him." A tiny finger points to Mew's face.

"Kicking him wasn't a nice way to say that." Type pulls his foot from Gulf's hand, squishing his face into his football pillow. 

"Sorry." Type mutters. "Can I sleep by Gulf?"

Gulf sighs but gives him a smile, crawling over Mew to lay between them. Mew shifts away to give him room but Gulf pulls his arm until Mew is pressed up against him.

"Type is being mean today," Gulf says softly, tugging down on the pillow to see Type's face. "Why is that?"

"I'm not mean." Type glares over Gulf shoulder at Mew. 

"You are. Mew is a good person." Gulf tucks a lock of hair behind Type ear. "We don't hit people, we talk to people. Nicely. We use nice words and actions because we care about people."

"I don't care about him."

Gulf feels Mew bury his face in his back. "But I do. And I don't like it when you hurt people I care about. You don't like it when people hurt those you care about?"

"No." Type scratches grumpily. 

"So will you try to be nice to Mew?"

Type glares at Mew then shrugs and closes his eyes, done with the conversation. He runs a hand over Type's head before pulling the blanket up to the boy's shoulders.

Gulf shifts to look back at Mew who's pouting. He gives him a kiss, one that's a little bit more desperate for more than Gulf is willing to admit before he settles back. Mew's hands stay in safe zones over his body but his crotch is pressed right into his ass. Gulf can still feel the last little bit of arousal pressed between his cheeks. He sighs, at least Mew is sleeping with him tonight, and that's better than last night. He could wait to get reacquainted with Mew's dick tomorrow.

Waking up to Mew's erection poking him was normal but not being able to do anything about it wasn't. Gulf pouts as he turns off his alarm, Mew shifts behind him, grinding against him. He reaches back to pat Mew's hips sympathetically. He wanted nothing more than to roll over and wake up to the new day with an orgasm and a long slow make-out session till both their lips hurt from kissing kind of morning from Mew. He couldn't and that was a very sad way to start the day.

Type was stretched out in front of him, his tiny hand holding onto Gulf's pillow as he drooled over his football pillow.

"You going into work today?" Mew's deep sleep riddled voice says against his neck.

"Yeah, just a for a little bit and I have to stop by the officer's office later as well."

Mew groans as he shifts, legs curling into Gulfs as his arms tighten before he relaxes again. Mew's hand rubs over his belly.

"Hmmm missed this," Mew mumbles into his shoulder. It takes all of Gulf will power, every single ounce of it, to not cave to that voice. Mew's hand creeps down his stomach and brushes over the top of his pants before he grabs it and holds it still. Mew makes a whiney noise and bites his shoulder before kissing the spot.

"Type is drooling on the pillow," Gulf says softly and Mew stops moving then looks over Gulf's shoulder. Type shifts, his nose scrunching up as he begins to wake up. Mew flops back down.

"When will you be back tonight?" Mew asks in a sort of depressed voice.

Gulf raises Mew's hand that he's still holding to give it an apologetic kiss. "By dinner time."

Mew whines, wriggling around, pouting then suddenly he pushes off the bed, quickly drop a kiss (it was more like a raspberry that got them both laughing) to Gulf's cheek before going to the restroom.

"I'm going to shower and ... take care of things. Do you want me to make breakfast?" Mew asks from the door.

"I got it," Gulf says. Mew sends him a loud air kiss before disappearing.

"He's too happy to be awake." Type grumbles, sleep crusty eyes cracking open. 

Gulf smiles and pinches his nose softly. "You have no idea buddy."

* * *

Gulf hasn't been taking any hosting jobs so it's mainly just article work that he talks about with Best at the beginning of the meeting. He'll need to start picking up those jobs again soon though because of the money they made. Also, the season was about to start again and he couldn't miss it, he loved football and sportscasting too much to miss it. Plus, It was the reason he was hired at the company originally.

"I have some requests for hosting jobs, I know you said you're not really taking them but I figured I show you just in case." Best said as he handed Gulf a stack of papers. He looks through the brands and events thoughtfully. If Type wasn't in his care he would happily take most of them if he could. He's pretty sure he could squeeze in a few and have Mild watch Type.

"This one a few others here are also working because of the size of the event, I would recommend it."

Gulf looks over the proposal for the event, "Yeah, ok. It does look good."

Type wiggles himself between Gulf's arms to look at the papers with him. "This one is for ice cream." 

Gulf ruffles his hair affectionately, "Very good." Seems like the worksheets and practice were paying off. He's reading words off the page without being prompted and he understood them. without asking. Which is honestly huge, Type trying to read on his own in general. 

"Gulf are you going to talk for ice cream." 

"I don't think so buddy, and I would be the host for the program." Gulf flips through a few more pages. He pulls out a few pages that didn't seem too far away but would make decent money.

"Host." Type repeated. "You're going to host ice cream."

Best laughs at this. He pulls out the ice cream job as well before handing it back to two separate piles. "No, I will host an event about ice cream. As a host, you talk about ice cream and you assist the guests to promote ice cream."

"Do you get to eat it?"

"Sometimes."

"Did you check the dates for these?" Best asks, flipping the computer screen around so Gulf could see the newly added dates for the events. He also noted a few articles that he still needed work on due soon.

"Looks fine, can you send me a copy so I can make sure I have someone to watch Type." Best nods flipping the screen back around.

"Can I join you in talking about ice cream and eating it?" Type looks expectantly up at him.

"I don't know buddy. Probably not but we can get ice cream together later." Gulf offers. Type looks to Best. Best smiles back. Type frowns and looks back to Gulf, thinking about the offer.

Type seems to be ok with this idea as he gives s silent nod. He's quiet the rest of the time as Gulf finishes talking to Best. He finalizes his schedule once more before heading out.

"Look, it's little man." Bright yells from down the hall.

"Bright." Type says and he waits for Bright to catch up to them.

"Heard Mew came back," Bright raised a brow.

"Yeah, It's fine," Gulf says.

"Sure Sure, I saw you took the jersey campaign. I did too. Glad we'll be working on it together. It's been a while since we worked on something together." Bright hit him on the shoulder with the stack of papers in his hand.

"By that you mean you'll let me take over so you can coast through." Gulf teases. Bright gives him a sarcastic look as his phone dings loudly.

"Gotta head out but let me know when you wanna play football. I can't wait to teach little man here some moves." Bright waves as he continues his journey down the hall.

"Bye Bright." Type chirps.

"See ya," Gulf says as well waving Bright off.

"Bright is happy like Mew." Type says looking up at him. 

"Some people are just happy all the time."

"I'm not." Type mutters as they walk out of the building. "It feels tiring."

Gulf laughs, "Yeah it does, doesn't it."

* * *

Type sat next to Gulf as he talked with Officer San. It was a relatively quick meeting. Gulf was asked to fill out some paperwork and tell one more time what happened. There were actions he could take against the men and Officer San suggest he take them. A few more pieces of paper later everything seemed to be in order. 

Including a restraining order which was only agreed upon because the men have harassed Gulf before and because of the proximity and likelihood that it might happen again.

"I'm not really supposed to tell you this but none of them have a clean record and one is one parole so there's a strong chance that you won't have to deal with them for a long while, if ever." Officer San smiled from across the desk as they close up their discussion.

"Thanks." 

Gulf stood and helped Type up. Officer San stood as well, clearing his throat. "About the party I mentioned."

"Yes?" Gulf has the information stuck to his fridge so he wouldn't lose it.

"I was wondering if you'll be joining." Officer San shifts, fixing his belt awkwardly as he waits.

"I don't know, I don't want to intrude."

Officer San waves his comment off with a smile. "I invited you. They're like family to me and they're always looking for friends. Thanya is so sociable, she can't have enough friends."

Gulf looks down at Type, "Do you want to make some new friends?" Type shakes his head. Gulf chuckles, the answer wasn't surprising at all. "Would you like to try if I'm there with you the whole time?" Type just stares back.

"Well, there's still some time to think about it. It's Saturday so like five days to think about it." Officer San says, addressing the last part to Type.

"I'll think about it." Type answers and Gulf ruffles his hair.

"We'll be there, thank you."

* * *

Dinner was more exciting than Gulf had wanted it to be. Type seemed to be restless from the moment they walked through the door that evening. Mew had order food from a local place, not crispy pork which was a mistake because Type decided not eating crispy pork for dinner was a crime and threw a tantrum. Gulf finally got him to calm down enough to eat something after an hour. 

Type then proceeded to throw chillis at Mew and trying to pour salt into his drink and almost managed to do it if Gulf hadn't caught him. When Gulf reprimanded him Type response was,

"I don't like him."

Gulf's heart sank and judging by Mew's face, his did as well. Their first real meeting hadn't been the best but Mew was nice to Type but Type wanted nothing to do with Mew no matter how much Gulf tried to reassure him that Mew was a good person. Mew rook himself to Gulf's room for the remainder of the night to work on his laptop. Gulf knew he was sulking, how could he not be. 

"He's tuck into bed." Gulf calls a little dramatically when he steps into the bedroom later that night. Mew smirks at him from his position on the bed, laptop on his lap. "I'm going to shower, wait for me."

"Want me to join you?" Mew asks, eyeing him like a lion eye their prey.

Gulf debates it, "Hmm, showering together... or separate." He steps closer to the bed before leaning over. He puckers his lips and Mew gives him a kiss. "separate."

Mew frowns as Gulf walks away. "It's like you don't even miss me."

Gulf shot shim a look and Mew pouts back. "Of course I do, I just want sex on the bed, not the wall tonight."

"You like wall sex," Mew calls back.

Gulf takes his time in the shower, it's been a little bit since they've had sex so he cleans up and stretches quickly. Already feeling impatient at the thought of waiting to be prepped later on during the good stuff - So shower prep it was. 

He jumps out of the shower feeling excited and jittery. Mew had been gone for two months so he'd missed the intimacy, the touching and kissing and ... holding. He'd just missed _Mew_ being there. Smiling at him. Loving him. 

He walks back into the room wearing only a towel hanging loosely on his hips and an ambitious smile. Mew looks up from his laptop then double-takes before he slowly closes the laptop and sets it onto the side table.

"And they say the sunflower reaches for the sun but you must have touched it and kept with you because you shine brighter than any light" Mew's eyes roam over his torso, his eyes stop at Gulf's side before trailing back up. "How did I get so lucky to call you mine."

Gulf flushes as he lets the towel fall to the ground. Mew's eyes flicker over his body again as he crawls over the bed to straddle Mew.

Mew's hand runs up his legs to grab his hips, settling him comfortably in his lap. "As much as I hate to suggest this, should we wait a few more days?"

Gulf frowns, offended. "Why?"

Mew drags his hand up to cup Gulf's side. Gulf looks down at it, the bruise covering a few ribs in purple and yellow. It wasn't that bad, healing too. "It's fine."

"You really think you can handle me," Mew leans in close to nip at Gulf earlobe, "pressing your legs to your chest," another nip and a kiss to his jawline, "Bending you in half to get deep."

"Yes," Gulf moans out, hip rolling against Mew's then, "Fuck," as Mew pressed into the bruised area.

Mew raises a challenging brow. "It's fine" Gulf snaps.

"How about I blow you instead?" Mew offers hands on Gulf's hips to grind them together.

"No," Gulf whines petulantly. "It's fine."

"Gulf it's not-"

"I can ride you." Gulf gasps out in what can only be explained as a surprising idea shooting out of his mouth.

Mew trailed his lips over Gulf cheek to brush against his lips but pulling away before they could kiss. 

"Please," Gulf continues pleadingly, "Please let me ride you."

"I don't know, I don't want you to hurt-"

"Mew" Gulf says seriously pulling Mews shirt over his head. Mew gave no resistance. "I don't care if it hurts - it won't, probably- I miss you. I want you. Do you really think you can resist me?"

Gulf grabs Mew's hand and wraps it around his length stroking it as he pulls Mew into a kiss. Mew freehand gropes Gulf's waist, trying to get friction for his quickly growing bulge.

"Mew" Gulf says coyly licking into his mouth before dragging his spit-damp lips over Mew's skin to kiss his neck. "Please"

"Ok, but be careful." Mew groans out and Gulf smirks as he feels Mew's hand reaching blindly for their nightstand drawer. Gulf hand pull at Mews pants to free his cock, he grabs it roughly. Mew hisses, nails digging into Gulf ass as he bucks up into the hand. Gulf chuckles, thumbing over the tip.

Mew's hands loudly knock around the drawer until he reaches for the lube and his fingers touch the tube there's a knock at the door. They both freeze.

"I locked it," Gulf whispers as they hear the doorknob jiggle.

"Gulf." Type calls through the door. Gulf sighs sliding off Mew and the bed, he grabs pants and pulls them on as he cracks the door open.

"Hey, buddy. What's wrong?"

Type tries to look past him but Gulf shifts to block his view, he's sure Mew did something to cover himself up but just in case. "Can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Did you have a nightmare again?" Gulf runs a hand through Types hair.

"No." Type steps closer to lean against him. 

"But you have your own bed to sleep in, why don't you want to sleep there?"

Type thumps his head against Gulf's stomach. "Lonely."

Gulf feels his shoulders sag as he coos, he crouches down to pull Type into a hug. "I'm right across the hall, it's not lonely. I'm right here."

"But your not in the room."

Gulf scratches his back, "But you did so well sleeping all by yourself up until now. Why are you suddenly feeling lonely?" Gulf brushes Type's fringe from his face.

"You're sharing a bed with him." Type points behind Gulf's head but stares into Gulf eyes. "Why not share with me?"

Gulf pulls Type into a tight hug, wiggling him a bit before pulling away. "I love sharing with you Type but -" Gulf stops. He was going to say that they share a be like mommy and daddy but he's not sure Type has ever had stable parents enough to understand the reference like that. He can't say they love each other because he loves Type too it's just a different type of love.

"Do you love Mew more than me?" Type peers into eyes like he's searching through them for his soul. It's oddly intimidating for an eight-year-old to be staring at him so intensely.

"I love you both very much but I love Mew differently. The type of love we have means we share a bed but that doesn't mean I love you any less it just means that our love is sleeping in separate rooms."

Type's tiny face scrunches up as he thinks over that. "What do I have to do to get love to share a bed with you?"

"That's not... I mean...-" Gulf sighs. "nothing Type. You don't ever have to do anything to make some love you. But you are so strong and brave and sleeping in your own bed is important."

"Why?"

"Because Mew moves too much and he would keep you awake and then you'll be tired and I don't want you to be tired."

"I won't be." Type says defiantly. Gulf smiles as he stands up. He nudges Type back to his room. Type puts up a little bit of a fight but then stomps to his bed.

"I don't know, you look tired now." Gulf taps his nose as he helps tuck him back into his own bed. "If you have a bad dream or you need me I'm in the next room. That's not very far away. But I think you're so strong that you don't need me."

"But I want you." 

Gulf coos, kissing his forehead. "I love you. But I think you can sleep in here if you really really need me. You know where I am."

"What If I get scared?" Type asks.

"Then just call for me, I'll come to you. Okay?"

Type huffs but nods.

"Do you want to listen to the song before bed?" Gulf asks.

Type pouts, "Yes." Gulf ruffles his hair as he quickly walks back to his room, Mew is under the covers. He looks up as Gulf enters.

"Is he ok?"

"Yeah. Give me a few more minutes." Gulf grabs his phone but leans over to kiss Mew. "You better be ready when I get back because we're starting exactly where we stopped."

He doesn't get Mew's response as he heads back to Type's room. He sits on the edge of the bed and plays Mew's old recording. Type closes his eyes, his hand touches Gulfs as the music played.

When the song was over Type doesn't open his eyes but he slides his hand back under the covers. Gulf kisses his temple before leaving the room.

Gulf locks the door again before stepping out of his pants and throwing the covers off Mew to straddle him again. Mew's naked which is good but he has a severe lack of erection. Gulf frowns.

"I told you to be ready." Mew laughs as Gulf pokes at his mostly flaccid dick.

"You're not much better," Mew says grabbing his hand to stop the poking.

Gulf pouts. "But I want sex now."

Mew pulls him down into a soft kiss. "Stop whining, it won't take long to get back there."

Mew wasn't wrong. The kiss turned from soft to heated quickly and Gulf's body rocked into Mew's, hips grinding. Mew's hand grabs them both stroking them to fully erect. It didn't take long at all to get them right back to the heated moment they were at before.

"Lube" Gulf gasps as Mew's hand starts to pick up speed. The neediness from the separation was noticeable in his strokes. Gulf found the lube on the bed and poured it over Mew's hand. The lube ran down their dicks as Mew continues to rub them. The lube slicking them up and giving it a nice glide, Gulf groans at the feeling.

Gulf cants his hips into Mews's hand a few more times before he slams their mouths together as he pulls Mew's hand away from their dicks. They keep kissing as Gulf presses the tip to his entrance. Mew tries to pull his mouth away as Gulf slides down onto him. Gulf hisses at the resistance and tight feeling. Maybe he rushed the prep earlier because it was tight but he wasn't stopping now. Mew's hands gripped his hips tightly slowing him down.

"Always so impatient." Mew reprimands as he mouth down to Gulf nipple, tugging it between his teeth.

"Fuck," Gulf whispers harshly. His body tightening before relaxing letting him slide down further.

He lets out a little gasping whine as he finally bottoms out. Mew's lips suck as his neck, hands touching everywhere. Mapping out his body as if he didn't already know everything there was about Gulf's body as many times as they've done this. Mews mapped out his body with his lips and tongue before, taking hours to undo him like he was trying to unravel him from the outside in. Yet every time it's like Mew needs to relearn every part of him. Hands needy to know more touch more, pull him closer, and never let go.

"I missed you," Mew says before kissing just behind his ear. Gulf shudders.

"Missed you too." Gulf connects their lips again as he rolls his hips. Starting a slow pace as they kissed, hands tangling in Mew's hair. "Miss you so much."

Mew's hands pressed them closer, urging him to move faster. Mew's hands never strayed to his hurt side but he touched everywhere else. Kissing all the skin he could reach. Gulf used Mew's shoulder as support and tried to keep most of his weight on his uninjured side but he still felt his bruise ache. He didn't let it show though, the pain was more of an annoyance than real pain. It just fueled him to move quicker because the more he thought about Mew and Mew thrusting inside him, rubbing that place inside him sending tingles through his body the less he thought about the ache in his side. 

Mew's hand goes back to his erection, stroking it in tangent to Gulf thrust. Pushing him closer and closer until his body tightened, arching into Mew. He bites down on his lip to stop any noises as he splatters against Mew's chest. Gulf keeps moving though, whining at the feeling. Mew's hands stabilize him. If this were before, before Type came to stay with him, when they could be as loud as they wanted and go as long and hard as they wanted, Mew would have made him beg to cum. Made him ride his dick for hours until he ached and when Mew finally pulled out of him he felt the phantom throb of his dick for hours afterward. But Type was just in the other room, they couldn't be loud and though Gulf wanted to go for hours his side was protesting and he knew he would feel it tomorrow. That didn't mean he couldn't still push himself to make sure Mew got off inside him.

"So pretty when you come on my dick," Mew says, bucking up into him, lips mouthing at Gulf collarbone trying to leave a mark.

"So pretty when you come inside me," Gulf says back in a sassy tone before groaning when Mew snaps his hips up.

Mew wraps his arms around him, pulling him down harder and harder. It was borderline painful and he wanted to come again, he could almost feel the string in his belly but it was too soon. 

"Mew... fuck uhn." Gulf presses his mouth into Mews's shoulder to silence himself. 

"I'm going to cum." Mew says and Gulf nods.

"Please." He moans at the erratic thrusts until he feels the warmth coat inside him. Mew gives a few more thrusts as he works through his orgasm before stopping. They settle against the headboard, Gulf's body hurts but he feels happy to have Mew back in his arms.

"I love you," Mew says again, kissing his temple. Gulf kisses his shoulder as he feels a hand brush over his bruised side. "Does it hurt?"

"A little," Gulf says honestly, he knows the response that's coming.

"I told you we should -" Mew cut himself off to let out an exhale as Gulf squeezes him, not only with his ass but his legs and arms as well. Squeezing tight until Mew exhaled a soft "Fine."

"A little bit of pain is fine. It wouldn't be the first time." Gulf laughs at Mew affronted noise.

"That's different." Mew pats his butt. "Spanking is foreplay."

"Same thing different cause," Gulf says, enjoying Mew's hand's cup his ass.

Mew makes an annoyed noise but doesn't comment on the subject anymore. "Let's get cleaned up."

Mew helps him up and out of bed. Gulf can feel the cum dribbling down his thigh.

"Want to shower with me?" Gulf asks, wiggling his hips playfully.

"I thought you wanted to shower separately," Mew says childishly but follows him into the bathroom.

"That was earlier when I wanted bed sex, I want shower sex now."

* * *

Gulf shifts uncomfortable on the chair, laptop open in front of him. Mew and Type were sitting on the couch watching football. Mew didn't really know anything about the sport, at least not past the random tidbits he'd picked up from spending time with Gulf. They'd watched games together often but Mew would either do work while sitting next to him or he'd distract Gulf from the game completely.

Gulf was hoping this could count as quality time so Type could get used to Mew more. It was going exactly as expected. Mew would try and cheer at something and Type would glare. Mew tried to ask Type something about the game, Type would glare. Type cheered about something but would glare if Mew joined in. At one point Type had stood up to cheer for a goal in the game and Mew had done the same but Type got so mad about it he pushed Mew.

"You can't cheer."

"Type don't push, that's not nice." Gulf calls from across the room. Type moves back onto the couch. "Why can't Mew cheer with you?"

"He doesn't know the game." Type answers. He wasn't wrong, Mew didn't know the game but that didn't mean pushing him was right.

"How will he learn?" Gulf asks.

"Will you teach me the game Type?" Mew asks, sitting back down on the couch as well.

"No." Type grabs the pillow next to him and throws it at Mew. "You can't learn."

"Why not?" Mew asks Type.

"No."

Gulf sighs, walking over to sit between Type and Mew on the couch. It was much more comfy for his ass anyway. "Ok, then I'll teach him."

"No" Type cries, leaning over Gulf to push at Mew. Gulf grabs his arms gently pulling him back up to sit on the couch.

"Type that's not very nice." Type huffs glaring at Mew before turning back to the screen. Gulf takes Mew's hand, lacing their fingers together, and gives him a smile. Mew gives him a tiny one back before leaning on his shoulder. 

A few minutes later Type's feet begin to kick out, hitting the couch with loud thumps. Gulf sets his hand on his leg to calm him down. Type whines sliding off the couch to the ground. He wiggles and whines, limbs flailing.

"Type buddy, what's wrong?" Gulf touches his should and Type whines louder before grabbing Gulf's leg and laying on his foot. "Breath type, It's ok." He hears Type take a few deep breathes, calming himself down, one hand in his mouth while his other arm wrapped around Gulf's leg. Gulf pulls the blanket off the couch and tucks it over Type before settling back next to Mew, lacing their fingers back.

* * *

"He seems to be adjusting very well." Dr. Eye comments as he picks Type up from therapy. She said in a way that made Gulf feel better about Type growth so far. "But we're still working on the angry part so just keep an eye on it. Remember to do calm down exercises and discuss why he might feel so angry as a way to help him work through it."

He'd been trying. Type could just sometimes explode but it wasn't always in anger sometimes it was in tears and sometimes he would clam up and crawl under his bed to hide.

"I will."

"How is Type adjusting to your partner?" Gulf frowns at the questions and she catches it. "Well, You've mentioned them before, and Type also mentioned that someone is staying with you guys now."

"Oh." Gulf says awkwardly. He's not sure why because it shouldn't be weird to talk about this with her. "Yes, Mew. He came back a few days ago."

"That must be nice." Dr. Eye says.

"Yeah, it is. Type isn't too happy about it though."

Dr. Eye hums. "How so?"

"He doesn't like Mew. I think he's afraid I'll stop loving him? He keeps throwing things at Mew and ignoring him. Throwing tantrums because Mew is near him."

"Yeah. You're probably right then. Type might be afraid to lose you. You are basically the first stable thing that he knows. Your safe for him and it's just been you two and now you bringing someone new in. Someone with who you've already had a relationship with. It's scary. My advice is to be patient. This is new for him and he needs time to adjust."

"Any tips on how to get him to be more comfortable around Mew? Or at least to not completely hate him?"

She chuckles softly as she shakes her head. "Take it slow and have Mew do things with Type that he enjoys. Maybe play football together. But mostly it's time he needs."

Gulf sighs, "Yeah I guessed as much."

"Let me know how it's going I can try and talk to Type if things don't look better in the next couple of weeks." Dr.Eye pats his shoulder sympathetically.

"Ok, Thank you." He waves as he heads down the hall to get Type.

"Oh and Gulf." Gulf stops to look back at her. "If you ever need to talk..."

"I know. Maybe soon." She nods, waving to him.

"Do we have to go home?" Type asks as they head out of the building. Gulf tries not to freak out at the thought that Type just called it home. It would do no good to freak out over it. He takes a deep breath but can do nothing to hide the smile.

"Is there something else you want to do instead?" He asks.

Gulf stays close to Type as they walk down the road. "No."

"Why don't you want to go home then?" 

Type frowns, lips all pouty as he looks up to Gulf with furrowed brows. "Mew is there."

Gulf stops at this. "I thought we were getting along with Mew?" They weren't but he was hoping.

Type shakes his head. "No."

"Why not? Why don't you like Mew?" Type just huffs, grabbing Gulf's hand to get him walking again. "Type, buddy, this is important."

"Mew is going to take you." Type says honestly.

Gulf chuckles but then stops when he sees the stiffness in Type shoulders. "Type." He tugs him to a stop, swooping him up into his arms. Type doesn't protest, he just relaxes into Gulf arms. Gulf adjust him more to his uninjured side, it really wasn't a good idea to pick up Type but he was small and Gulf wanted to. It wasn't his fault Type was just too cute sometimes even when he was being grumpy.

"I told you that I would be with you buddy," Gulf says. "Mew coming back isn't going to change us. You don't believe me?"

Type shrugs.

Gulf understood that want for stability in his life, Type being afraid of new people. Type not wanting things to change. "I promised you that nothing would change and has anything change the past couple of days?"

"You smile at him." Type says in a small voice.

"I smile at you too."

"What if you forget about me because of Mew." Type tiny hand curls into the hair at the nape of his neck.

"I would never." Gulf squeezes him tighter "He won't take me away because there is enough of me for the both of you." 

Type huffs against him. "Won't sharing be hard?"

"Sharing is hard but you'll learn as you grow that sharing yourself with others makes you stronger. You see Mew makes me happy and makes me want to do better and be better. He is confident in a way that I want to imitate. But you, You are the cutest boy ever." He blows a raspberry into the boy's cheek. Type giggles at it but doesn't move away. Type likes the attention way more than he gives off.

"I'm not cute, Everyone says I'm strong."

"Oh very strong," Gulf shifts so he could poke at one of Type biceps. "But you can be cute too. You can be both cute and strong. You can also share. And allowing other people to help you is sharing a part of yourself. Like you allowing me to help you."

"I only want to share with you." Type yells. His possessiveness is cute.

"For now, that's ok. But maybe in the future, you can think about sharing with others. What if you make friends in the future?"

"I don't want friends." Type kicks out his feet and Gulf has to stop to keep himself balanced before gentle shushing Type. 

"Ok." Gulf settles as he starts walking again now that Type isn't swinging his feet anymore. "For now that's ok. Just think about it."

"Fine, I'll think about it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading, sorry this chapter isn't as exciting. I hope that you all enjoyed it even with the long wait. Let me know your thoughts. Also if there is something you want to see little Type and Gulf do.


End file.
